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THUMP’S CLIENT 



BY 


CHARLES D. KNIGHT. 




When critics cry ’twere better thus and so, 

We’ll say, good sirs, if you have book ne’er writ, 
Stir you the fire, and when the embers glow. 

Baste well the roast, and turn yourselves the spit. 





NEW YORK: 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 




i 


Copyright, 1880. 

By The Authors’ Publishing Company, New York, 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 


r 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Mixing Method with Time 5 

II. — The Readk.r is Introduced to Lunley Lane... ii 

III. — Samuel Meshach I Baptize Thee 19 

IV. — Joe upon the Road to Business, Fame, and 

Fortune 24 

V. — The Little Man Entertains Great Heart... 31 

VI. — Mr. Trout Receives an Old Friend and Poor 

Fellow 40 

VII. — Mrs. Mutter, No. 40 Chapel Street 47 

VIII.— Joe Appears for Business, the Fame and For- 
tune Hereafter 51 

IX. — Found, a Body 57 

X. — Susan Thump never Neglects her Duty 62 

XI. — Chance has not done This 68 

XII. — Of Rover and his Master, Joe and Isaac 78 

XIIL— Miss Ray welcomed to the Home of her 

Ancestors 85 

XIV. — The Lane had not Gone, but the Blind Man 

HAD 92 

XV. — Tom Barley Sleeps, Wakes, and Sleeps Again. 97 

XVI. — The Cottage in Lunley Lane 107 

XVII. — “I Never 'ooked un in like ’er” 114 

XVIII. — What came of Miss Thump’s finding the 

Officials civil 118 

XIX. — Mr. Hamper visits Jericho, where Trav- 
ellers Stop to be Refreshed 138 

XX. — Of One who could not reach Port 147 

XXL — “ Trouble goes in Threes, Sir, afore the 

Spell is Broke” 161 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XXII.— Showing the Child that Life is 

Long Play-day 

XXIII. — Letters, “Figgers,” Manners, and Meg . 

THEIR Voyage 

XXIV. — Glitter, Glisten, Glow, and Burn, Owlie... 197 

XXV. — Does Samuel see in it a Chance? 212 

XXVI. — A Pearl Buckle Hearted Rosette defeats 

Craft and Cunning 227 

XXVII. — “Rover, Do you know Mr. Wallace?” 242 

XXVIII. — The Trout toys with another Bait 250 

XXIX.— Gaff shows Himself possessed of Ideas 269 

XXX. — “Belongin’s is Keepin’s to them as Finds”. 281 

XXXI. — The Wind uninientionally becomes Useful. 292 
XXXH. — In which there is Fear of Foulness again 

IN THE Great Chimney 309 

XXXIII. — “And Yours for Me, is there such?” 318 

XXXIV. — The Wily Trout again Toys 324 

XXXV. — A Profitable “Wenture” 340 

XXXVI. — Treats of Meg, “ Uncle,” and Samuel 354 

XXXVII. — No Hope for Mrs. Boggs. 368 

XXXVHI. — Mr. Hansom still refuses to recognize 

Chance at Work 376 

XXXIX. — Miss Ray becomes easily Convinced that it 

IS QUITE THE MORNlNG FOR A RiDE 396 

XL. — Sir James Lambert appears, to the Delight 

OF THE Little Man 405 

XLI. — An Iron Box panelled at the sides and 

raised upon the top is given Mr. Thump. 421 
XLII. — Mrs. Trout finds, unexpectedly, her Mother 433 
XLIII. — In which divers Points are made for divers 

People 44^ 

XLIV. — Treats chiefly of Wind and Water.. 464 

XLV. — Joe Completes the Business, so Fame and 

Fortune must follow 481 

XLVL—“ Time’s Up!” 485 


THUMP’S CLIENT 


CHAPTER I. 

MIXING METHOD WITH TIME. 

“ I’m in a hurry ! I’m in a hurry ! I’m always in a 
hurry. How queer it would seem not to be in a hurry. 
The clothes would pile up very high, and the boots and 
shoes never know their mates, if I wasn’t in a hurry. So 
much to be done and so little time to do it. When the 
sun goes down I’nri sorry, for people won’t make bargains 
then, and maybe I couldn’t tell the quality of the gather- 
ings either. I could see better once than I can now I 
lose on every pair of boots that don’t match. I’m always 
awake before the sun, for there is so much to do, and no 
time to do it.” 

Thus chattering to himself, the Little Man in black 
bobbed in and out, around and behind the carts, cabs, 
and drays, till he had threaded himself successfully out 
of the bustle of Mayfair and into the quiet of Blue Bot- 
tle Court — so named because at its corner tavern swung 
a board bottle painted blue and crowned by a red stopper 
much too large for the bottle’s proportions. 

He passed quickly by the open door of the Blue Bot- 
tle ; his life was so busy it never occurred to him that he 
could go in. He carried on his shoulders a sack of red 
velvet, once of the softest pile and richest hue. Its con- 
tents, whatever they might be, were deposited with care, 
as could be seen by the contour of the half-filled sack. 
His long black stockings were of the finest silk, but here 
and there neatly mended ; his breeches, but little below 
the knee, were of black velvet, worn smooth in spots, 
and rusty all over ; his coat was black also, and cut very 


6 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


much after the manner of a jockey’s — indeed it were not 
surprising if it were the cast-off of such a personage. 

The sack was never very weighty, but to maintain 
equilibrium it had required him to bend his back, which 
was much longer in proportion to his legs than it should 
have been according to the laws of anatomical symmetry. 
He laid down the pack beside a step leading to a house 
which was unpretentious enough to rise but one story, 
fumbled in his pocket for the key, drew it forth, opened 
the door into a passage which led into a room which a 
curiosity collector would give much to inspect, and more 
to choose from its contents. He deposited his burden, as 
gently as if it were a child upon what had once been a prie 
iiieu, and on whose tufted satin many a fair penitent had, 
no doubt, sighed for deeds of commission and sins of omis- 
sion. But the satin had lost its shimmer, many of the 
tufts were gone, and it had taken the downward track 
which would probably end in the ragman’s shop, but at 
present was the pride of the Little Man. 

He was glad to be unloaded, and notwithstanding there 
was so much to do, he thrust his palms outward, fell upon 
them, turned as many somersaults across the room as the 
space would admit, turned around, went back in the same 
gymnastic style, and then springing to his feet said, 
“ I’m straight now. How would I ever keep my feet 
nimble, my legs limber, and my back straight, if I did not 
take time just at this part of the day to ” — and another 
series of somersaults completed the sentence. 

“ Now there is something to do,” and he smacked his 
lips at a slice of uncooked bacon, which he drew from 
the cupboard. “ It’s well there’s time to cook you, or 
I’d ” — and his small black eyes twinkled merrily, as he 
chopped off a bit, tossed it into his large, cleanly cut 
mouth, and ground it with his small sharp teeth. “Yes, 
when there’s no time Td do that, ha ! ha ! But now 
there’s time, for the sun takes time to rest, and I’m 
obliged to, so I’ll ” — while saying this, he raked the coals, 
for he always kept the fire burning — there was not time 
to light it every day — and laid the slice of bacon on to 
broil. The teapot was set beside it and the lid was soon 
hopping up and falling down proclaiming the heated 


MIXING METHOD WITH TIME. 


7 


agitation within. From the sack he drew a small parcel, 
whose numerous wrappings to protect it from soiling the 
day’s gatherings, he took off and revealed a loaf of bread. 

“ Ha ! how I make the most of time. Many a man 
would have said, ‘ Go home, leave your load ; go back and 
buy your bread.’ There’s where I make and they lose. 
While the bacon is browning a little more and the tea 
clearing itself, I cut the bread and lay on the butter. I 
don’t go out to buy and come back to find the bacon 
burned to a crisp and the tea stone cold. I make the 
most of time, so now I sit down to take supper with every- 
thing just right and myself in no hurry, for there’s plenty 
of time, but only at this hour in the day though. .1 al- 
ways bear that in mind. Breakfast must be hurried, for 
the later I am the higher the clothes will pile.” 

And the Little Man chattered like a magpie and ate 
like a hungry boy. The end of his long nose was lost 
now and then within the ample boundaries of a cup of 
pure translucent china, fair and frail enough for the fair- 
est and frailest in the land. From it he sipped, and in it 
he stirred cream and sugar by turns, till it just suited his 
palate, and then the draughts were long, alternating with 
large mouthfuls of the bacon and bread till there was not 
enough left for the dessert of a fly. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” said he, rubbing his hands in satis- 
faction, “ there’s nothing like mixing method with time, 
if its not so plenty. Now, I clear the table so,” and in a 
twinkling the china cup, the plate, which did not match 
the cup, but was just as fair, and the tin teapot with spoon, 
fork and knife, were hurried into a pan, and the water 
which method had put on the coals to heat while the 
owner was at supper, was freely poured over them ; the 
laving with the aid of soap bringing them forth as clean 
and shining as the most scrupulous housekeeper could 
desire, they were placed on the shelf over the fire. 

Brushing back the few ashes he had scattered on the 
hearth he drew from one corner of the room a large chair, 
made with as much consideration for the comfort of the 
sitter as for elegance of design. Its carving had lost here 
a leaf and there an angle, some of the claws on which it 
stood were gone and others were nicked, its covering was 


'8 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


of dark brown leather, soft in texture and like himself — well 
worn. Just then a voice cried from the top of a little case 
whose glass doors revealed bits of satin, velvet and silk, 
arranged as to color and material, on the lower shelf ; 
bits of broken jewelry, ornaments and trinkets of almost 
any description, on the second ; and rumpled, tumbled 
feathers and flowers, from the weighty plume of the de- 
fender of Her Majesty’s possessions to the drooping spray 
from Her Highness’s cast-off bonnet, on the top, — and 
from out all these came the voice “ I’m in a hurry ! I’m 
in a hurry ! time’s up ! time’s up ! ” 

“ Yes, time’s always up with me,” said the Little Man, 
“ there is so much to do, and if it were not for method 
what should I get done ? I never look at you when I 
come home, because if I did I should stop to gossip, and 
I could not cook, eat and talk to you properly at the 
same time, so I never know you’re there till I am ready 
to look at the gatherings. What a saving of time ! come 
down ! come down ! ” 

And down flew a pretty starling and perched on the 
back of the chair. She turned her head and looked down 
at the sack first with one eye and then with the other as 
much as to say, “ Perhaps if I could look with them both 
at the same time. I’d see what it is to-night.” 

She did not wonder long, for her master saw the long- 
ing look and said, “ Let’s go and see.” At the’ first word 
she whistled acquiescence and hopped on his shoulder : 
he stepped to the sack, took out a little tin box and out 
of the tin box a few hempen, a morsel of sweet fig and 
some crumbs of rich cake. 

The bird whistled and fluttered her wings in gratitude 
for the remembrance, but she did not offer to taste them. 

“The plainest first, it makes the digestion better,” 
said the Little Man ; and she flew into her cage, ate rather 
sparingly of the grain therein, drank of the fresh water 
the master brought, and listened, with all due respect, to 
what she had heard every night since she had come to 
reside in Blue Bottle f ourt. “ If I did not work by 
method how much would you get, eh } While the maids 
have gone with my offer to their mistresses, I look for 
cages just outside the ladies’ windows and these are what 


MIXING METHOD WITH TIME. 


9 


the birds drop from them. Could I find time to spare 
from work to get these No, not when there's so much 
to do and so little time to do it. Its method that brings 
these to you, dearie,” and he laid his hand softly and 
tenderly on the starling’s head. “ Now, see how they 
taste : here’s a bite of fig first, that is good for digestion ; 
here’s a hempen, that’s rich, and too many would harm 
you ; here’s cake, and too much would make you sleep un- 
easily.” Thus reasoning he gave her all he thought good 
for her and consistent with the portion left for the mor-. 
row, for every day did not bring as much as this day had 
done. 

“It’s a good child; it does just what the parent wants 
it to,” said he, closing the box and laying it on the shelf. 
“ Now let us look at the other gatherings.” 

“ I’m in a hurry ! I’m in a hurry ! ” said the starling. 

“ I’m not so much hurried at this time of the day,” re- 
plied the Little Man, “ but we’ll see what we’ve brought. 
Here’s a robe Lady Mary Susan Helen Florence was pre- 
sented in some time ago, its been remade and retrimmed 
till it wont do again — and the few pounds this brought will 
buy.a yard or two of Lace, or one of those charming caps 
from Madame Makem’s lovely assortment. This is what I 
heard her mother, the duchess, whisper to her, but I did 
not hear her say they would buy a good many yards of 
flannel, a pair of stout shoes, a load of coals, and pay a 
quarter’s rent for many a poor soul I could tell them of. 
Such folks, dearie, have nothing to do and plenty of time 
to do it. Here’s a coat, full dress, and of the finest threads 
— see how shiny. I paid more for it than I can get, I know, 
but the poor fellow who wore it looked so scared when I 
called ; you see, he knew the knock of the tailor, the haber- 
dasher, the wine merchant’s clerk, and a host of others, 
but mine was a new one, and he thought what in the devil 
has come now 1 I read it in his face, but I only said, re- 
spectfully, ‘You sent for me, sir, and I am at your ser- 
vice.’ ” 

“ ‘ Ah, yes, yes, I remember,’ said he, scratching his 
head as if he’d scratch up some recollection of having 
requested me to call — I know folks so well, dearie. ‘ I have 
some articles here that are not worn much, but their fit 


lO 


THUMP^S CLIENT, ' 


and style don’t suit too good to throw away — no use to 
keep — little short just now — remittance delayed — always 
give to the poor-box — disappointed if I can’t. How much 
are they worth ? In a great hurry this morning.’ ” 

“ I did’nt look at the clothes, but I looked at him and 
said, ‘ There’s so much else to do, that there’s no time to 
lie.’ ” 

“ ‘ You’ve put your long nose right into it, so I’ll own 
up : parent rich, stern, don’t sympathize with youthful 
.ardor ; cards, wine, gentle sex — all devices oCsatan ; debts 
heavy, knocks at the door heavy and heart heavy ; can’t 
pay, sorry for ’em — a hundred pounds in pocket and 
could go to America, seek a fortune, find it, come back 
and* pay up with interest. Take your choice of fine 
clothes — no use for ’em.’ ” 

“ The poor fellow might have talked till this time, dearie, 
if there had not been so much to do and the bootmaker’s 
boy hadn’t so unceremoniously interrupted us. So I took 
this coat, this silk gown, these slippers, this pretty cushion, 
some cravats we’ll come to soon, a few shirts, and best of 
all, these velvet shorts — left from a fancy costume, I sup- 
pose. We shall soon need them, so we will keep these, 
dearie, and some rainy day we’ll make ’em over. Ah ! 
here’s something for our box of secrets, our state papers, 
we call ’em, a card — 

“‘Ralph Speeder, No. 36 Knickknack street, third 
door, second floor, I think. Well, I think too, he’ll take 
speedy steps to get out of there with the pounds and pence 
I paid him. Poor fellow ! he’s got an empty head. We’ll 
lay this card away, fold up our gatherings, light the can- 
dle, think a little, and say good night. To-morrow I shall 
have some fine additions for Mistress Bogg’s collection. 
I must sleep well, for she is sharp, and drives a bargain 
as none but Mistress Boggs can. Poor Boggs, she’s 
driven him almost to where she’ll riot get him back again. 
I whisper to him sometimes, ‘ Come and see me when 
there’s plenty of time, and nobody sees you.’ It would 
do him good to sit still a while, for he can’t do that where 
she- is. It’s, ‘Boggs, there is the shop- bell — if it’s a 
customer call me ; ’ ‘ Boggs, I hear a cat in the area ! ’ 
Boggs, Boggs, whenever the wretched man is seated for 


READER INTRODUCED TO L UN LEY LANE^ II 


a bit of rest. . What would I do, if I were Boggs ? Dear 
me ! there’s no time now to think ; I’ll straighten myself 
out, and go to bed ” — and the Little Man thrust out his 
hands, fell forward and turned as many somersaults up 
and down the room as he deemed necessary to the pro- 
cess of “ straightening out.” 

“Now I’m straight,” said he, jumping to his feet, 
“ and in a hurry for the sun to come up, then I’m in a 
hurry all day. How queer it would be not to be in a 
hurry ! ” and with these meditations he opened the cage 
door: the starling flew in, perched herself for the night, the 
Little Man in black became a little man in white, snuffed 
out the candle, and hurried himself into the realms of 
sleep. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO LUNLEY LANE. 

A DOG, a blind man and a lawyer. Which was blind, 
the dog or the man ? A question which would have 
sorely puzzled the dwellers in Lunley Lane, had they 
known, that concerning this blindness, exactly upon which 
one to place, it or whether to place it Upon either, there 
had lately arisen much doubt in the mind of Miss Susan 
Thump, who, although not the oldest inhabitant, was the 
highest authority on all matters whether temporal or 
spiritual, in the aforesaid Lane. 

Without Susan, the Lane, it is feared, could not exist, 
and without the Lane, it is known Susan could not exist. 
She was its head, heart and soul. Neighbors consulted 
her upon all important subjects. If a small advent was 
looked for, the doctor suggested “ Miss Thump,” in soft 
and insinuating accents, which meant, “ If I am not there 
at the precise moment, do not fear.” If a marriage was 
to take place in the Lane, there was Miss Thump ; if a 


12 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


soul was to exchange worlds, Miss Thump* was there to 
close the eyes, place the pennies on the lids, cross the 
hands, darken the windows and knot the crape. On the 
day of burial she was at the door, to receive ; to answer 
all questions concerning the departed, the disease, length 
of time sick, where buried, and the parting words with 
friends as the soul started on its last journey. 

No wonder the Lunlies felt more secure when she 
was in attendance ; the coming were tenderly helped in, 
the departing were as tenderly helped out of the world, 
and those who remained were guarded night and day, 
by her vigilance. No strangers went in and out of the 
Lane without her eyes following them. The daily trav- 
eller excited no suspicion, neither did the ordinary mendi- 
cant, but there was something about this blind man who 
had stood for many days at the corner of Lunley Lane and 
Wilton Road, which caused Susan much anxiety. He 
extended his hat, to be sure, and received alms there- 
in with much gratitude ; yet it was done with an air that 
Susan did not think altogether becoming to one in his 
station ; and the dog, who evidently possessed his master’s 
secret, for she was sure he had one, seemed to hold him- 
self aloof from the dogs who lived in the Lane. When- 
ever they approached, he did not slink away as if he 
were dependent on the cliarity of their masters for a 
bone, but looked haughtily, even disdainfully on them, 
and growled savagely if they came too near. 

One morning, while Miss Thump was peeping through 
the partially closed blinds which shaded her cozy little 
parlor, from which she could see the corner without the 
corner seeing her — and as Lunley Lane and Wilton 
Road cut each other at a very acute angle, her vision was 
not limited to the crossing of the two — she could see the 
man and his dog coming toward the Lane. The dog 
walked as consequentially as if he were leading a lord ; 
and as this idea occurred to Miss Thump she said to her- 
self, “ Susan, here’s something that must be closely at- 
tended to, the Lane may be in danger,” and she thought 
of the probabilities of calls from home : she could count 
upon no expected blessings, under three or four months, 
marriages' would not Idng detain her, and deaths, al- 


READER INTRODUCED TO LUNLEY LANE. 13 


though uncertain and often very inconvenient, were be- 
yond her control, and to their attendant duties she was 
liable at any time, but she decided nothing else should 
interfere with her. 

As the blind man and his dog were on the long cross- 
ing, which must necessarily be where the angle was so 
sharp, another pedestrian, having the Lane for his destina- 
tion, likewise crossed from the other corner, and being 
in haste and much preoccupied with his own meditations 
ran against the blind man, thus incurring the displeasure 
of the dog, who did not hesitate to make it known by a 
low, ominous growl. The man very blandly begged 
pardon for such rudeness to one so afflicted, and at- 
tempted a reconciliation with the dog. A dog of plebeian 
origin would have been flattered by the pat and “ nice 
fellow,” which the man was about to bestow, but which 
he did not, for his dogship drew back, and added to the 
ominous growl as ominous a snarl. 

“ Quiet, Rover,” said his master, “ he means no harm ; 
you are sometimes too sensitive, good fellow ; ” and passing 
his hand along the string reached Rover’s head, and gave 
him loving pats, which told the attachment between the 
two vagrants. 

“ Very faithful, I see,” said the man, with another bland 
smile, “ always know where to find him. A very fortu- 
nate person you are, for one so unfortunate as to be blind. 
He has never played you false, eh ? ” 

“No, never,” returned the master, “and the only one 
I know whom I can honestly say as much for. This is a 
treacherous world, sir, a treacherous world ; ” and a long 
drawn breath spake of trouble untold. 

“ Yes,” replied the other, breathing deeply also, as if in 
sympathy ; “ it occurs to me, that clients like your dog 
would be preferable to some men I know. When dogs 
are a little more developed, there may be such a thing. 
How charming it would be to have such clients — Carlo 
versus Rover, infringement on the Bone Rights or Kennel 
Privileges ; ” and he laughed so loud that Susan unbolted 
the blinds and stretched out as far as she dared, but could 
not catch a word. 

“ When dogs become developed, as you call it, enough 


14 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


to go to law over their wrongs, they will cease to be faith- 
ful,” said the blind man. “ But I hear footsteps, and must 
move to the curb, or I may be jostled.” 

“ How do you know they are coming your way } ” 
asked the man. 

“ My hearing, like all afflicted as I am, is very acute, 
and I know, not only the direction, but, if I hear a person 
pass me often, I can distinguish his footstep as readily 
from any other as you can his face.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the man — and a sudden thought seemed 
to strike him — “ ah ! indeed ; and never confuse him with 
any other 1 ” 

“ And never confuse him with any other,” repeated 
the blind man- with assurance. 

“ Do you get many pence at this corner I have seen 
you here much of late. Wouldn’t a richer neighborhood 
be a more profitable stand ” 

“ The richer, the less sympathy, I find, for the poor. 
The Lunlies, and the passers along the Wilton have been 
very kind to me. My wants are simple ; and if a few 
pounds are left when I am gone, they must be spent for 
Rover’s comfort so long as he lives, which I dare say will 
not be long without me.” 

“ Here is a mite toward Rover’s legacy, and if you 
ever find yourself in need of advice, legal, let me serve 
you gratis, that being one of my hobbies, and to serve all 
alike, the impecunious with the same zeal that I do the 
millionaire. Am often dubbed the counsellor-in-need.; 
that is,” he added, as he saw a smile upon the blind man’s 
face, “ that means the counsellor in time of need. I never 
ask, ‘ Are you able to pay .? ’ when I see injustice done to 
a poor man.” 

The expression on the face of his listener somewhat 
confused him : it was an expression of contempt, mingled 
with suppressed merriment and -annoyance — the curved 
mouth showed the contempt, the part about the eyes, not 
concealed by the colored spectacles, Showed the merri- 
ment, and the contracted brow showed the annoyance. 

“ Good morning, sir ; perhaps I shall meet you again,” 
and he turned toward the Lane, when he suddenly be- 
thought himself, that the blind man would not know 


READER INTRODUCED TO LUNLEY LANE. 1 5 


whom to ask for, if he should decide, upon short notice, 
to begin a journey on a Lane that is so broad and so long 
that the travellers through it never jostle each other, and 
are led through its vastnesses by their desires and aspira- 
tions. “ Street beggars, like him, have been often found to 
hoard their pounds by the hundreds, even thousands,” 
thought he, “ and the legacy might not be small,” so he 
walked back a few steps and said, “My name is Trout, 
sir, and my office at the other end of the Lane. If ever 
in trouble, I am your friend, good morning.” 

“ You are very kind,” replied the blind man in a more 
grateful manner than the lawyer thought he could exhibit. 
“ I am poor, you see, and not likely to need your services, 
but I shall remember you with gratitude for your interest 
in me. Good day.” 

The lawyer walked rapidly away in tl;^>direction of 
his office, saying to himself, “It may be that I can pull 
that string. Knows a man by his footstep as well as I 
would by his face — that’s good. Such a person would ex- 
cite no suspicion,” and the bland smile illuminated a face 
that was an ever-varying study. The eyes were small, 
black and deep set; twinkling little eyes, that might be 
quizzing you, or only laughing at his own craft and cun- 
ning, one could not tell which. A low forehead gave a 
sort of dogged expression ; the nose was of a length that 
showed it would be very apt to poke itself anywhere, but 
if met with determination, very soon withdrawn. The 
mouth was the blandest of mouths ; it certainly could 
never say an unpleasant thing; if it ever tried it was a fail- 
ure. The head was small and bald, save a ring of short 
black hair, which was quite as pliable under the combined 
action of brush and comb as the same quantity of wires. 
The neck was short, and held the head well between the 
shoulders ; the figure was tending toward portly.' He 
always had a bustling air about his office, or when attend- 
ing to business anywhere, leading the careless reader of 
character to believe him a man of great energy and in- 
dustry. 

And this was Mr. Trout, of the firm of Trout & — it 
shall come to light in time. ^ ' 

The blind man walked to his corner, listened for 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


i6 

comers and goers ; there were none just then : he passed 
his hand along the string till he came to its end at which 
he again found Rover, patted him and said, “We will 
leave the Lane early to day, for our work is already done 
We have held our bait many days, but at last it has been 
nibbled, by and by we will draw it in, and find it has caught 
a — Trout. It is fine fishing, but chance has not brought 
him here, neither will chance guide me in my work." 

Rover listened attentively, and expressed by a wag of 
the tail, and rubbing of the head against his master’s face 
the most decided satisfaction in the piscatorial prospects, 
as well as the early withdrawal that day from the Lane. 

Meantime Susan’s curiosity had risen to the highest 
degree. Mr. Trout knew Susan, and Susan knew Mr. 
Trout, and now she must make it her business to know 
what made kiip linger in conversation with this poor blind 
man. Surely her work was increasing as the mystery 
deepened. She took, from a peg in the hall, her bonnet, 
and at once sallied forth ; the little gate opened quickly, 
and clicked sharply under her nervous touch, and this 
click startled Mr. Trout — the very thing Susan desired. 

“ Ah, good morning. Miss Thump, fine air blowing ; “ 
and the blandness with which he spake would have won 
the admiration of a susceptible heart, but never of Susan’s. 
Her knowledge of Mr. Trout was not alone by reputation, 
although this was good — for a lawyer shrewd, far sighted, 
sharp ; but stealthy, cowardly, and intriguing, he really 
was : but this she learned long after through another 
source. 

She returned his pleasant salutation, but the half sup- 
pressed, half audible “ humph ! ’’ which followed, showed 
that she did not feel in the best possible humor. 

The click of the gate had satisfied her ; so offering no 
denial to the statement that a fine air was blowing, but 
acquiescing in a few words, she walked toward the Wil- 
ton, and he continued towards his office. She approached 
the corner in much doubt what to do, which Rover soon 
decided for her as she eyed him timidly — she had a 
strong aversion to the whole canine race — he eyed her a 
little wickedly, as if to say, “Not too close, m’am, I am 
attending to my own business, which is legitimate, though 


READER INTRODUCED TO LUNLEY LANE. 1/ 

it is superintending neither a birth, marriage nor funeral. 
If you’ve anything for my master, you can approach ; if 
not pass on — no prying though : he’s blind, and I guard 
him from harm,” and Miss Thump drew her skirts closely 
around her, and was about to say, “ scat,” but changed it 
to “ shoo, go away.” 

The blind man felt that Rover, and some passer-by, 
were not of the same opinion, so commanded the dog 
to be quiet and said, “ Do not fear, madam, he is harm- 
less,” 

“ Maybe he is to you, but I never feel safe, you can’t 
tell when they’ll bite,” said she, trying to show resent- 
ment to the dog, but secretly thanking him for having 
given her this opportunity of conversing with his master. 

“But Rover is an exception. He is just and will 
fight for right, but he is not treacherous,” replied the blind 
man. “ Do you not live in the Lane? ” 

Susan looked a reply, which would have been, 
“ Humph ! you can’t see ? I thought so,” but for once 
withheld her first thoughts and merely said, “ Yes, I have 
never lived anywhere else.” 

“ I asked,” continued the man without sight, “ because 
I knew your footsteps. You have passed within my 
hearing many times, and I shall tell Rover he must never 
again alarm you, although I know he meant no harm. 
Do you hear what I say. Rover ? ” As the dog’s look of 
assent could not be seen by his master, he assured him 
of his understanding by a short quick bark. “ Now,” said 
he, turning to where he thought Miss Thump to be, 
“ you need not fear to pass whenever occasion requires ; 
he never disobeys me.” . 

“ I don’t think he would bite if you was here, but I 
would’nt trust him if you wasn’t ; I never did like dogs,” 
said she, taking notes as fast as possible — hands brown, 
but not hardened from labor ; beard and hair soft and 
glossy, which showed care ; feet shapely and covered by 
boots, which though well worn, were once made to fit ; 
clothes and hat ditto. 

His eyes were covered by dark colored spectacles, not 
only in front, but at the sides ; although it was difficult to 
tell, to a certainty — and upon certainties she prided her- 


i8 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


self — she thought the lids closed over well rounded balls ; 
but this she did not fully satisfy herself upon, so slipping 
a shilling in his hand walked on. 

The interview was not satisfactory ; she had intended 
finding out what Mr. Trout had said, but there was a 
dignity about the man that she recognized, though uncon- 
sciously, for she was piqued that she dared not ask him 
who he was and where he lived. She continued her walk, 
dropped in to chat with a friend and of course could stay 
but a minute; the minute, however, grew to an hour, the 
hour doubled and trebled itself till the time for Samuel’s 
dinner grew on apace, and to be late with that was almost 
a sin in Susan’s code. 

“ Samuel must not be kept waiting,” she said ; “ I shall 
have just time, if I hurry, to see that the maid has left 
nothing undone.” 

One cold night in December, when Miss Thump was 
younger — but we dare not say how young — she was 
aroused by the alarm of fire. She arose quickly, and with 
feminine instinct first sniffed to see if it were in her own 
house, then raised the window and thrust her head into 
such piercing cold that the warmth a fire suggested was 
not unpleasant. Footsteps were hurriedly passing her 
door, many of the Lunlies had already gone : this would 
never do, so, clad in thick clothes and stout shoes, she 
was soon with them ; her ambition and pride were never 
to be outdone by her neighbors. 

The bells rang, the firemen ran, Miss Thump ran ; the 
crowd increased, and the fire increased : its forked tongues 
shot out and up, and lapped in its prey greedily timber 
and tiles, rags and ribbons, women .and children — any- 
thing to feed it — no distinction, no mercy — no mercy for 
this child .? it has devoured its father, its mother, its bed, 
its room, all but the window, and at this it appears. The 
crowd is hushed, the moment an eternity. “ A ladder ! 
a ladder ! ” but who will venture.? the walls are already 
swaying, his doom is sealed. 

A woman, small in size, lithe in limb, almost crazed at 
the sight, elbows her way through the crowd. Their 
hearts stand still. What can she do ? mount the ladder .? 
Fool ! suicide ! 


SAMUEL MESHACH I BAPTIZE THEE. IQ 


Before the next heart-throb Susan Thump stood at 
its foot, with the child in her arms. 

A shout went up higher than the flames, and louder 
than the roaring elements. 

The child lay fainting, but she would allow no one to 
take it from her : she bore it gently away, and L,unley 
Lane became its home. 


CHAPTER III. 

SAMUEL MESHACH I BAPTIZE THEE. 

The fire was out, as all fires are after a certain time. 
The people were out, as all poor people are after the fire 
is out. The furniture that was saved, was out — in the 
street — and the owners, if there were any, were watching 
their goods and the dying embers. Husbands were en- 
quiring for wives, and wives for husbands ; children were 
running to and fro looking for parents ; wreckers were in 
search of what the fire had left half consumed, not what 
the waters had washed up on the sand. 

No enquiry had yet been made for the bundle Susan 
had carried away in her arms. No father said, “ Where 
is my son.^ ” No mother, “ Where is my child, my first- 
born 1 ” The smouldering embers gave not up their dead 
sa\ e in smoke and ashes. 

Susan’s home was a scene of confusion : warm baths, 
mustard draughts and many other restoratives were used ; 
the best room and the best bed were appropriated to the 
little waif, and it seemed extremely doubtful what course 
he would take, for he was at the forks of the road, and 
cared not a whit whether he travelled awhile longer on 
the same, or crossed over, and commenced a journey on 
the one which has no end. 

Miss Thump began with characteristic forethought to 
question herself as to whom she could ask to superintend 
matters, in case she should be called upon to play the 
role of chief mourner. But this proved unnecessary, for 


20 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


after hours of unconsciousness, the eyelids parted, the 
eyes gazed upon strange faces, and the limbs relaxed. 
She watched by the bedside with windows darkened, 
and in whispered accents to the doctor and the neighbors, 
would often ask, “ Do you think he will live } ” 

After a day of painful suspense, the doctor, the neigh- 
bors, Susan and the boy decided that he would. Her 
pride was again aroused ; she felt herself to be the heroine 
and the boy the hero of the fire. She had already read 
the account of “ Thrilling scenes at the fire last night,” her 
name in the Daily Bee and other papers. She saw a 
column devoted to the incident headed, “ Daring ex- 
ploit by Susan Thump.” The hour she had sought had 
arrived, the fame she desired was hers. 

Mutton broth, oatmeal and wine soon brought re- 
newed life and strength to the supposed dead, and joy 
and pride to her heart. Poor woman, gentle and lov- 
ing as she was, she had never experienced that thrill of 
pleasure that springs from a mother’s heart at the sound 
of the voice which lisps for the first time “ Mamma.” 

She felt sure that this child had been born for her to 
love and cherish. Days passed and no claimant appeared. 
Notices had been posted around the burnt buildings and 
also published in the papers concerning the whereabouts 
of the rescued one, signed, “ Susan Thump, No. lo Lunley 
Lane.” 

The paragraphs referring to her bravery she read and 
re-read, cut out and pasted on the blank leaf of her Bible. 

“ When I am dead and gone,” said she, “ the world 
will know what Susan Thump has done.” 

The child was often asked his name, and the name of 
his father, but the shock had so affected his memory that 
the past seemed a blank, hence the necessity of giving 
him a name soon presented itself. She thought she would 
consult the Rev. Josiah Peerie, as he was her authority in 
some temporal as well as all spiritual matters. Had she 
not literally “ plucked a brand from the burning } ” and 
for this deed she felt that her crown would be brighter, 
her robe whiter, and her harp vibrate more sweetly to her 
touch in the Great Hereafter. 

What should the child be called ? A consultation of 


SAM [/EL MESH AC H / BAPTIZE THEE. 21 


neighbors and friends was held ; many were the names 
suggested by one and another, but the choice fell upon 
Samuel Meshach, The first, as an indication that he 
would be an offering to the Lord ; the last, that he had 
passed through fire unharmed. 

Preparations were speedily made at No. lo for the 
christening. Her best cap was bleached, ironed and 
goffered as it had never been done before. Her best 
black gown, worn only on great occasions, was brushed, 
sponged and retrimmed ; a large cake was baked and 
lettered with icing, “ S. M. T.” The ceremony was de- 
layed in view of the possibility that some relative might 
appear and claim the child, and in order to avoid the 
appearance of undue haste. Still she felt the need of the 
baptismal consecration, and would often say, “ Suppose 
he should die, how do I know but that his parents were 
wicked people, and never had him baptized.? Susan 
Thump can never neglect her duty.” 

The man of God, in apostolic robes, stood in the best 
room, with a bowl of water before him, clear as crystal. 
As he looked into it he said, “ May this be an emblem of 
thy life, little stranger; thou hast been saved by, and from 
fire ; may the waters never overwhelm thee, but as clear 
and pure as these drops, may thy soul be found. Who 
will be sponser for this child ? ” A voice loud and firm, 
from a little body in Sunday clothes, answered : “ I, Susan 
Thump.” 

After the usual form on these occasions, the con- 
gratulations and good wishes offered, cake and coffee 
were brought forth. She intended by precept and exam- 
ple to be a bright and shining light to Samuel, and no 
strong drink should be brought into his presence by 
her. The Rev. Peerei craved a blessing upon the refresh- 
ments, and, also, upon her who had taken upon herself 
the name and responsibility of mother. The cake was 
eaten and the coffee drank ; Susan had adopted the child, 
the Lane had adopted it, and, let us hope, Heaven had 
adopted it also. 

He had received some injuries, from which he was 
fast recovering. At times, he seemed to recall the past. 
One day he opened his large gray eyes, and said. 


22 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


“ Mamma.” Was it a vision of his own lost mother, or 
did he comprehend that the little woman, who was so at- 
tentive to his every want, who watched over him awake 
and asleep, who had rescued him from death, was now 
his mother ? 

The boy Samuel grew in stature, and in favor with all 
the boys in the Lane. The mothers looked upon him 
with tenderness ; their eyes often filled with tears when 
they thought “it might have been my Johnny, or my 
Tom, left to the mercy of strangers.” Then they rejoiced 
that the little fellow had fallen into such good hands as 
those of Susan Thump. 

Years rolled on, carrying with them babies into child- 
hood, from childhood into youth, and from youth into 
manhood. Samuel Meshach Thump, like other boys, was 
carried into a large- sized youth; no relatives nor friends 
had given heed to the notice, and Susan looked upon him 
as the staff and stay of her declining years, in case she 
made up her mind to decline. He loved her ; she was, 
of course, his only friend. He had no recollections that 
would give trace to his parentage. The sight of a burn- 
ing building would send a horror to his heart ; he shrank 
from running to fires, as is the habit of boys; he had been 
told of his hair-breadth escape, and why his name was S. 
M. Thump, which did not, in the least, lessen his love for 
mother Susan. She petted, indulged and protected him 
as her own. 

As time wore on, and the youth was fast becoming a 
man, many were the consultations held between mother 
and son, concerning education and business. “ What 
have you determined upon.^ ” said she, when she felt the 
question must finally be decided. 

Samuel was indifferent ; he seemed unwilling to leave 
home and embark on a voyage of responsibility. The 
business of a tradesman, a mechanic, the profession of a 
lawyer, or orders for the church, were before him. The 
last he shrank from, as giving him a position that would 
place the souls of men in his power. The creeds and 
forms of the church were not entirely satisfactory to him, 
but the law and command of Christ “ to love the Lord 
with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, were, to 


SAMUEL MESHACH I BAPTIZE THEE. 23 


him, plain and binding, and that only was he willing to 
preach and teach, for it belonged to the whole human 
family. She was a little disappointed that he refused the 
church. She had often thought of the pride she would 
feel to sit under the preaching of the Rev. S. M. Thump, 
D. D,, and ask, “ How did you like my son’s sermon to- 
day .? ” 

It was finally decided that h^ should try the law, and 
articles of indenture as a lawyer’s clerk, were drawn up, 
and S. M. Thump entered the office of S. S. Trout. 

Years still rolled on. The day-dawn of Susan’s hopes 
one morning ended in full fruition. The Daily Bee and 
other papers announced the fact that — 

“ Partnership was this day entered into between S. S. 
Trout and S. M. Thump. From this date the business 
will be conducted under the name of Trout & Thump.” 

Another important milestone in her life had been 
reached. She read and re-read, cut out and pasted in 
her Bible, another notice that she wanted read after she 
was dead and gone. 

She walked up and down the Lane, to read the modest 
sign, fresh from the hand of the painter, glistening like 
letters of gold, amid many others at the entrance. She 
saw none but this, and thought no one else could ; the 
others looked dull and weather-beaten, and so did the 
other firms in her eyes, and she was sure they must in 
those seeking legal advice. Her thoughts wandered 
back to the night, when she saw a helpless child sur- 
rounded by flames; the rescue, and the nourishing/ the 
anxiety, and the joy at the announcement of the doctor 
that he would live ; the cake, the coffee, the goffered cap, 
and the words of the Rev. Peerie, saying, “ Samuel Me- ' 
schach Thump I baptize thee .? ” 

Another cake was baked, larger and richer, bearing 
the names Trout and Thump, in extra-sized letters. The 
smoking coffee sent forth the flavor of the best mocha, the 
cream was the thickest and sweetest the alderney could 
give. A new cap had been ordered, with the request that 
it should be in the latest style, and trimmed in the most 
becoming manner. The frock to be worn, was one Sam- 
uel had given her, bought with his first earnings. The 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


24 


reverend gentleman stood again in the same neat little 
room, craving a blessing on cake, coffee, Susan, and the 
firm of — Trout & Thump. 


CHAPTER IV. 

JOE UPON THE ROAD TO BUSINESS, FAME AND FORTUNE. 

“ Sit ye down ; the stars tell no secrets, and the moon 
never listens in her journeyings. I am a traveller, but 
not a wanderer ; I have a work before me, but I am not 
an adventurer. Over there ” — and the speaker pointed to 
the village on whose outskirts he and his companion had 
met, — “ over there, at the Wayfarer’s Rest, I heard them 
talk of honest Joe. 

“ An honest man I have sought for a long time. Have 
I indeed found one 1 ” This question the man seemed ad- 
dressing to himself, for his look was not one of query, 
but astonishment — almost awe — as if an honest man were 
a rare sight to him. 

“Yes,” was the modest reply, “ I am so called.” 

“ An honest man you are, and yet you seek business, 
fame and fortune.” 

The other started, and in surprise looked up, saying, 
“ Pray, how know you } ” 

“ Ha ! the birds bring me messages, and secret 
thoughts the rustling leaves, but the business must come 
first, and upon its success depend the fame and fortune. 
I am about to engage in an undertaking that requires a di- 
versity of talent ; but first I look for honesty — you have 
that, now for the talent — first, a keen scent, that is the 
hound ; second, fleet and surefooted, that is the horse ; 
third, firmness and fearlessness, never losing sight of the 
game, that is the hunter. Can you be hound, horse or 
hunter as occasion may require ? Can you obey my com- 
mands without questioning my motives, so long as you 


JOE UPON THE ROAD TO FORTUNE. 25 


will never be called upon to cast a shadow upon the name 
you have so long borne — ‘ Honest Joe ?’ ” 

“I consent,” said Joe, “and will serve you faith- 
fully.” 

“ You consent ! that is not binding.” 

“ Then, I agree.” 

“ Not enough; swear by the heavens above, the earth 
beneath, and the rippling waters under us, and I shall be 
content.” 

“ Then, I swear it, Mister — what may I call you } ” 

“ Wallace will do,” and a nestling beside him startled 
Joe, and caused Mr. Wallace to whistle, and forth stepped 
a dog. 

” Here is my companion — my best friend. He will 
always be with us, and as he knows my business thor- 
oughly, you need not fear to say anything before him. 
Step out, old fellow.” The dog came forth, and gazed at 
an honest man with quite as much curiosity as his master 
had done a few moments before. Having satisfied him- 
self, by the close application of his nose to the honest 
man, that he was not a wraith, he looked back at his mas- 
ter, as much as to say, “ He will do. I highly approve of 
the companionship, of this honest man.” 

“ My dog likes you, I see ; a good recommendation for 
you. He reads character well,” said Mr. Wallace, pleased 
that his best friend approved of his choice. “ Do you 
desire to return to the village 1 If not, let us begin our 
journey at once. I must be in London as soon as I can; 
my sole purpose in coming here was to find you, and now 
let the allied forces return to battle.” 

“ I am ready to start at once,’’ said Joe. 

The moon, who had hidden herself partially behind 
a cloud during this interview, now came boldly forth, 
contrary to Mr. Wallace’s declaration. She had listened 
in her journeyings, and as she peeped into the heart of 
each, and listened to their contract, she shall tell us what 
she saw — we know what she heard. 

“ I saw a man tall, angular, but well shapen — for the 
angles had been rounded — with keen gray eyes which 
could beam with love, tenderness and pity, or could look 
determination and firmness ; his nose was long and 


26 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


straight, the nostrils well cut, his mouth had given scornful 
curves to its sides, which were not natural. In short, I 
liked him, and having often peeped at him before, can say- 
naught against. And I also saw a man short in stature, 
shoulders a little bent, but head always erect, with heart 
a little bent by life’s burdens, but never beating to a mean 
action, and well deserving his name ‘Honest Joe.’ I 
shone on them my mildest beams. I guarded them while 
they slept, I lighted them, when they travelled. Let me 
see, I was below zenith, so when they tired I saw them 
asleep, and left word with the stars, for the sun to look 
well to them, when he came.” 

After, journeying awhile, the little party grew weary, 
looked about for a resting place ; no house in sight, so 
they turned from the king’s highway, into a small grove, 
and there found moss for a bed, and stones for a pillow. 

Mr. Wallace, well pleased with his night’s success— 
for Joe was what he had long needed— fell off to sleep 
without meditations; but Joe wooed sleep for a longtime 
in vain, and, of course, must think, and he thought, “ Have 
I been rash "i Perhaps so, but no one can suffer by it. 
My home one of want and penury, my friends few and 
distant, my station low and humble. What lost, if nothing 
gained } I like him and having nothing more to think 
especially about, he attended more particularly to the 
wooing of the aforesaid god, and at last fell asleep. 

The next morning the dog was early astir, and awak- 
ened his master and Joe. Mr. Wallace opened a pro- 
vision bag, spread its contents on the grass, and invited 
Joe and the dog to draw near, saying, “ My dog always 
shares my food. I never make any distinction when we 
travel.” 

They all ate with relish, and till hunger was satisfied. 
Mr. Wallace gathered the remnants, put them in the bag, 
and cutting a stick from a tree near by handed it to Joe. 
“ Perhaps,” said he, “ you are not so well used to travel as 
I, and a staff might help you.” 

Joe took the stick, thanking him ; the dog ran about 
smelling the footsteps of the night before, his master 
shouldered the bag, and the start to business, fame and 
fortune began. They trayelled leisurely on till nearly 


JOE UPON THE ROAD TO FORTUNE. 2/ 

noon, when they reached a small village, at whose only 
inn Mr. Wallace proposed to stop. They entered, sat 
down ; the dog seemed at home, so did his master. 

“ Long seems the time, mister, since ye spent a ha’- 
penny at our board,” said the landlady. 

‘‘ True, my good woman. Now bring us some bread, 
meat and beer, plenty for three.” 

“ Glad ye didn’t take the other road, this time, mister, 
They do say highwaymen have been seen there, so my 
good man don’t go that way to town now,” said the 
loquacious hostess, as she laid the cloth and prepared the 
table. 

“ What mean you ? Do you say that your man, Tim 
Catharty, hasn’t courage enough to travel the shorter road 
to the town ? ” 

“ D’ye think my man wants a bullet through his heart 
or his head smashed ? Ye can try it; if killed, no wife and 
boy Johnny will cry for bread.” 

“Now, give yourself no trouble, woman ; your Tim, 
will never be molested. Bring us a good hearty meal, 
we have a journey before us, but will leave all fears be- 
hind. Add to our bread and meat something else nour- 
ishing, we need strength.” 

“ I have a pot of soup that will nourish.” 

“ Yes, but if like some I have found in my travels, it 
wouldn’t have strength enough in itself to run down hill.” 

The three drew close to the little table, and the dog, 
with an appetite as sharp as his two companions, sat erect 
on haunches watching Tim’s wife as she prepared the 
“hearty meal.” 

“ Don’t forget my dog, woman; he must have the same 
as myself, barrin’ the beer.” 

The two men ate in silence until hunger was appeased. 

“ Now Joe,” said Mr. Wallace, “ for a purpose which 
you shall know in time, I shall not see you till we meet 
in London — or rather just out of it — you are to take the 
road to the right. You will first come to Pascal, but that 
is many miles from here; if you do not travel fast, as you 
probably will not, you must rest to-night at some other 
than a public house. From Pascal, which you will reach 
to-morrow, you will turn to the left, and on to the All 


28 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Welcome : there, if you will mention my name, the host 
of that good inn will do all for your comfort. I think you 
will reach that to-morrow night, and the next day take 
road direct to Jericho, the sign of whose inn reads, ‘ This 
is Jericho. Travellers stop and be refreshed. There I will 
meet you, and here is money for your journey.” And 
slipping a five pound note in his hand, added, “ Business 
will begin as soon as we reach London, and may fame 
and fortune soon be yours.” 

They shook hands heartily, the dog followed his mas- 
ter, and Joe followed the road to Pascal, hope and fear 
alternating at every step. The day passed with no stir- 
ring incident ; the last rays of its declining sun seemed 
to say, “ Good night, Joe ; I shall be here in the morning 
in time to show you the way.” Travelling on until over- 
taken by darkness, he saw a light glimmering in the dis- 
tance, and wondered if he could find lodging there for the 
night. He quickened his steps, for his stomach said, “ I 
have had nothing since you left the inn, eight hours ago, 
too long to leave me empty ; no wonder I gnaw and 
groan.” Feeling that complaint, his feet ventured to say, 
“ We too, are weary; the stones have hurt us, hard boots 
have rubbed blisters ; we need rest.” The remainder of 
Joe joined issue, and he tapped gently at the door. 

A voice of unusual sweetness bade, Come' in.” 

“ A fine evening rna’m,” said Joe, to a woman who 
appeared to be the mother of three children, the eldest, 
whom he at once recognized as the owner of the sweet 
voice, was perhaps thirteen, the next, a boy of ten, and 
another somewhere in babyhood. They all looked sur- 
prised ; the children with their eyes intently fixed on the 
stranger, drew near the mother. 

“ My good woman,” said Joe, “can you furnish me a 
lodging } I am not a beggar. I will pay for all I ask. 
I am weary, footsore and hungry ; I have travelled some 
distance, without food or rest.” 

By this time the mother and children felt more at 
ease, as the stranger’s voice and manner were gentle and 
kind, 

“ My accommodations, you see, are not very good,” 
the woman replied. 


JOE UPON THE ROAD TO FORTUNE. 29 

“ Never mind that, I will give you no trouble ; give me 
a corner on the floor and a blanket, and I shall be more 
comfortable than I was last night.” 

I'he woman eyed him closely, then said, “You are 
welcome, stranger ; my husband is away from home, he 
may also be- hungry and tired. I would not want him 
turned away from anybody’s door. Now, Susie,” address- 
ing herself to the eldest, “ set out the supper, and cook 
a slice of bacon.’’ 

“ Do you drink coflee, mister ? ” 

“Yes.” 

The table was soon spread with the best the little 
house could supply, and they all sat down. The woman 
looked at Joe, as much as to say, “ Why do you not say 
grace } ” He was immovable in tongue as well as hands. 
After a moments pause, the mother thanked the Good 
Giver for food and raiment, then asked protection for the 
stranger on his journey. Joe was still silent. 

“ Now, help yourself : you are welcome to what we 
have. My man says, ‘ Always entertain strangers, they 
may be angels,’ and so the good book reads.” 

Joe ate with a good appetite. He thought the flavor, 
of the coffee the richest, the bread the sweetest he had 
ever tasted. 

“ Susie, fetch a cup of milk for the baby.” 

The little one raised its hands gladly, put the cup of 
milk to its lips, when a deathly pallor overspread its face ; 
the rolling of the eyes and jerking of the limbs indicated 
one of those oft repeated attacks so much dreaded by the 
mother. She understood the symptoms, also the remedies 
— warm bath, mustard and onions, which restored the 
little one to consciousness for a short time. Again it was 
seized with convulsions, and when again relieved opened its 
large blue eyes, lisped “ Mamma,” and was with the angels. 

“ This,” thought Joe, “ is life ; one day tenderly nursed 
in a mother’s arms, the next in a winding sheet, but food 
for worms.” His heart was moved, tears gushed from 
the strong man’s eyes. He had never before witnessed 
a scene like this, never felt the veil so thin that mortals 
could almost penetrate it, never before realized that one 
step could take him into the Great Beyond. 


30 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


Joe’s hand dug the grave, the mother’s prepared the 
little shroud, and without priest, or prayer, except “ Thy 
will be done,” from a breaking heart, the little form was 
laid in the garden, under the spreading branch of an old 
forest tree. 

The third morning after his arrival, the stranger, who 
had proved an angel in the hour of need, bade adieu to 
Mrs. Blake and her two children with a heavy heart, and 
resumed his journey. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE LITTLE MAN ENTERTAINS GREAT HEART. 

After Joe had been an hour or more on his journey, 
Mr. Wallace engaged passage for himself and dog in the 
.coach which would start for London at once, and bring 
them there in time for the next day’s labors. The ride 
would cover most of the night, but if he could rest on 
turf and stone, he surely could on a comfortable seat 
within the coach. The dog and driver were old friends, 
for the master and he had often been passengers before, 
so he was made welcome on the box, and from his look 
of intelligence, one would say, he knew the most. The 
coach rattled and bounced, jolted and jostled, as any 
coach should, halted twice for fresh relays, and at last 
reached London at break of day. Mr. Wallace stepped 
out and the dog jumped down before they reached the 
Hand and Arm, to which the coach was destined, and 
hurried through a few by-streets which were sparsely 
populated, for they were on the outskirts of the great 
town, till Jericho’s invitation to “ stop and be refreshed ” 
welcomed them both. The dog knew, as well as his 
master, that a good meal, and if they pleased, a soft bed, 
awaited. 

The hostess of Jericho was a cheery little body, alive 


LITTLE MAN ENTERTAINS GREAT HEART. 3 1 


to the comfort of all who came within her walls, for by 
so doing she was alive to her own welfare and prosperity. 
After lavings without, in the clearest and purest of water, 
sent up in the cleanest and whitest of pitchers, and laving 
within — for the foaming ale, for which Jericho was famed, 
would carry the dust and dryness from the throat of any 
traveller, and leave his palate clean and clear for the smok- 
ing breakfast that would follow, Mr. Wallace and his dog 
emerged from Jericho fresh and bright, just as the town 
was yawning, opening its windows, inhaling the dampest 
of fogs, and stretching its limbs for another day’s labor. 

They walked leisurely along, not caring to be there 
till the great town had eaten, and was finding its way to 
the shop and the office, the market and the quay. There 
was nothing to admire ; indeed, if there had been, who 
could have seen it ? for — it was foggy. 

“ I have given him.a chance to leave my service should 
he regret his oath, for he has yet no clue to what his busi- 
ness will be. A walk alone for many hours I have found 
to be an excellent sedative to an excited brain. He boiled 
and bubbled with fancied prospects for a few hours — it 
was but natural — now let him alone, and when he reaches 
London, he will run clear and steady, the foam will have 
disappeared, then he will be ready for business. As it is 
early I may find our little friend at home. How would 
you like to keep dearie company, for a few hours, eh ? ” 
said Mr. Wallace to his companion, who shared his 
thoughts as well as his food. The dog did not return 
the heartiest kind of acquiescence to this questionable 
proposition, or rather propositional question, but assumed 
a martyr-like air, as if, “ I will suffer for the cause, even 
so far as to be bored by the stupid company of dearie.” 
So they turned off Friars way and turned into Mayfair, 
and soon saw, or rather felt that they would see, if they 
could, the Blue Bottle, with the ample red stopper. 

Mr. Wallace knocked at the door of the third house 
in the court. The door was not at once opened — perhaps 
the knock was not heard, but there was a bustling within, 
as if the occupant were in a hurry. Another knock, 
another hurrying, and the key turned the bolt, the bit lifted 
the latch, the hinges turned the door, and the Little Man 


32 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


in black turned himself out upon the threshold in such a 
hurry, that one would never suspect he had heard the 
knock. 

“ There is so much to do, and no” — 

“Very true, my good friend, there is so much to do, 
that I find the days too short, like yourself.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” said the Little Man, starting back as if 
he were greatly surprised to find anyone there. “ Come in, 
come in; the fog is too thick to be in a hurry. Ha! ha ! 
come to see dearie,” and he patted the dog heartily. 
“ Come in, come in, Great Heart and his dog are always 
welcome. We don’t feel in a hurry when they come ; do 
we, dearie .? ” 

“ Time’s up, time’s up ! ” cried a voice from within. 

“ Yes, your right, dearie, time is up for them to be out 
in the wet. They are coming. Here we are. How glad 
she is to see you.” 

Mr. Wallace and the dog were perfectly at home in 
the quaint little room; its curiosities were no curiosities to 
them, they had been there before, and would be many 
times again, and the last time would be when the Little 
Man would be in no hurry ; the hinges would work so 
silently, the door open so softly — but we must not antici- 
pate. Mr. Wallace and the bird were surely the best of 
friends, for she cried, “ I’m in a hurry, I’m in a hurry 1” 
and flew down upon his shoulder. 

“ Yes, you are in a hurry for the grains I promised 
you. Here they are fresh from the country. What say 
you first ? ” The bird whistled her thanks, at the same 
time looking sharply at the closed hand. 

“ That was well done, pretty starling, and here is your 
reward.” 

The bird took a few kernels from his hand, and then 
he placed the box which held them upon the top of the 
case, and turned to the Little Man saying, “ As you are 
in no hurry we will talk awhile, and when we leave I will 
let my dog remain here with dearie for a few hours, if 
you are willing 

“ Great Heart knows I am always ready to serve him,” 
replied the Little Man, “ for where should I be if it were 
not for Great Heart 


LITTLE MAN ENTEE TAINS GREAT HEART 33 


“Never mind that,” said Mr. Wallace, “you can do 
more for me than I have ever done for you — that is, if 
you have the chance. No, I do not believe in chance. 
Nothing happens by chance. There is a power control- 
ling every act, and some day, we shall be a power con- 
trolling the acts of others.”' 

“ Then I beg the power to bring somebody right in 
here,” and he opened the velvet sack, which he had taken 
from his shoulders when he re-entered the room. “ I’d 
pitch him into it, and Td sew it, and tie it, and seal it so 
he couldn’t get out; and I’d say it was my pin-cushion, 
and I’d use so many pins and needles, I’d sew and pin, 
and pin and sew, till he’d think of the pins and needles 
he has put in people’s hearts. I’d never be in a hurry to 
make the gatherings then, only the gatherings of pins and 
needles. “ Ha ! ha ! can the power do that ? ” chuckled 
he, in almost fiendish delight, rocking himself to and fro, 
till at last he jumped up, suddenly struck out his hands, 
and so rapid were the somersaults, it was hard to tell 
whether it were not just as convenient for him to be upon 
his head as his feet. 

His visitor sat quietly awaiting for the “straightening 
up,” which he knew would come in its time, although it 
was a little longer than usual in its coming; the evolu- 
tions increased till, exhausted, he cried, “ I’m straight 
now,” and stood up. 

“ Sit down, then, and let us talk,” said Mr. Wallace, 
drawing the large chair from the corner. The Little Man 
drew up the faded piece of penitence — the prie dieu — sat 
at his feet, and placing his elbows on his knees, his chin 
on his hands, and his eyes on the face of his guest, said, 
“ I’m not in a hurry, the fog is too thick ; the gatherings 
must now be pins and needles for the big cushion. Ha ! 
ha ! ha, the devil can have him when I get through with 
him, but he mustn’t hurry me.” 

Mr. Wallace did not heed, but said quietly, “ I have 
a friend who will aid me ; he is honest, faithful, and trusty. 
He must have a place which will overlook No. 40 Chapel 
Street. I have come to you to find such lodgings for 
him. Can you } ” 

“ Can I } can I } ” replied the Little Man. “ I’m in a 


34 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


hurry now ; I’m in a hurry to see Mistress Boggs ; not 
Boggs, but Mistress Boggs. Boggs would never do. Can 
I } can 1 1 Ask me, Great Heart, what I cannot do for 
you.” 

“ Have you found any papers, scraps, or anything, 
since I saw you last } ” 

“ Not a word till yesterday, then the gatherings gave 
me this card,” and he handed Ralph Speeder’s card to 
his visitor, who read it, re-read it, rubbed his eyes and 
read again. 

“ The gatherings did well for ” — 

“ The power, you mean,” interrupted the Little Man, 
put it into the gatherings,” and he told him of his in- 
terview with the young man who bore the name, and 
whose coat contained the card. 

“ This is of use to me, but for safer keeping I will 
leave it with you,” returned Mr. Wallace, handing it back 
and then withdrawing it read again, “ Ralph Speeder,” 
as if he would reassure himself. 

“And it will be safely kept. Great Heart.” 

“ Yes, I am sure of that, or I would take it myself. 
Let me see the coat.” 

“ Here it is,” said the Little Man, opening the drawer 
of a quaint piece of furniture, which was in part a ward- 
robe, a dressing-table, and a secretary, a feature of each, 
with neither predominating. The lower part held a large 
deep drawer, just the thing to hold the gatherings femi- 
nine ; the next story held a secret drawer, where all the 
important papers of the owner were kept ; and the top 
held brush, comb, a variety of pin-cushions, a vase or two, 
and many bottles of divers make up and color. Some 
with meager contents, and others with no contents visible, 
but a delightful odor still clinging to them telling of what 
had once been within. The coat was brought forth from 
the ample drawer, and closely examined by Mr. Wallace ; 
finding nothing he returned it, thanking the Little Man 
for his trouble, who replied with a satisfied air, “ I’m never 
in a hurry when I examine the gatherings, and there’s not 
a thread I don’t see.” 

“ I did not expect to find anything after you had 
searched it, but there is a subtle something which the 


LITTLE MAN ENTERTAINS GREAT HEART. 35 


wearer imparts to a garment, which I can fee|, enter 
my finger tips, when I touch it, which puts me on his 
track,” was the reply. 

“ The something my finger tips like to feel is the man 
himself, if I don’t like him,” said the Little Man, with a 
merry “ ha ! ha ! I dont know anything about your subtle 
things.” 

“ The fog is breaking,” said Mr. Wallace, as he looked 
toward the window, knowing it would be useless to ex- 
plain what he knew to be a truth with himself — he could 
not speak for others. “ I will now leave my dog, and 
will call again in^a few hours.” 

The dog had lain down before the hearth ; he was a 
weary brute, and why not ? he had not the incentive that 
possessed his ' master, to take no time for rest. The 
starling piped out, “ Time’s up ! time’s up ! ” The dog 
supposed the time was up for sleeping, the master knew 
the time was up for his tarry in Blue Bottle Court ; the 
starling meant the time was up which she had spent in 
eating the luscious grains — with the Little Man in Black, 
time was always up : so the time being generally up, they 
were all up, Mr. Wallace and the Little Man to go ; the 
dog and the starling to stay. 

“ How shall I let you know if Mistress Boggs will 
accommodate our friend ? ” asked the Little Man, as they 
were parting at the corner under the Blue Bottle with 
the red stopper. 

“ Leave word with the blind man whom you will see 
at the corner of Lunley and the Wilton,” replied Mr. Wal- 
lace, and each seemed to the other to suddenly disappear, 
for the fog was only ruffling its edges, and clearing in 
patches. The Little Man with his bag on his shoulders 
hopped and skipped till he skipped into Cross-Cut Lane 
— so named because it ran diagonally, and made a long 
way into a short way. He knew every inch of the 
ground, and could walk there blindfolded, if need be, so 
he would have known exactly where to stop, if he had not 
heard a familiar voice crying, “ It’s a lie, it wont cure ! 
It’s a lie ! it won’t cure ! ” 

“ It will kill, though, won’t it ? ha ! ha ! ” asked he, of 
the owner of the voice, who recognizing her questioner. 


36 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


replied rather sharply, but appropriately, “ Hurry ! 
hurry ! ” “ Yes, I will hurry,” said the Little Man, “but 

I must see your mistress first.” 

“ Come in ! come in ! ” continued the voice. “ Cheap, 
cheap.” 

The Little Man laid his thumb on the latch-tongue, 
and entered the shop of “ Boggs & Co.” Now, just 
whom “ Co.” represented was not known. Mistress 
Boggs was the Boggs referred to, and Mistress Boggs 
was the all — Boggs, we will call a silent partner — poor 
fellow, he dared not be anything but silent. Occasion- 
ally he had ventured an opinion, but it was always 
when in the presence of company, who he hoped would 
prove a screen for him, but he had found Mistress Boggs’ 
“ Hiram, I hear a cat in the area,” or “ Hiram, dear, the 
shop ; if it is a customer, come and tell me,” quite as an- 
nihilating as her “ Boggs, why don’t you hold your tongue ? 
don't you know that you don’t know anything .? ” a form 
of speech he always got when they were alone — so it had 
been some years since Hiram Boggs had expressed his 
mind on any subject, however trivial, in the presence of 
his better half, or within her hearing. 

The room, which the Little Man entered, was full— 
so full, that when one got in, he wondered if he could ever 
get out — the way seemed to close behind him. There 
were things new and things old ; things useful and things 
that it was a query if they could ever be used ; the known 
and the unknown, the handy and the unhandy, and at 
the first glance, one would say, piled up with no reference 
to article or order. But ask Mistress Boggs for anything, 
and her quick brain classified it at once as belonging to 
household, medicinal, ornamental or literary. Having 
thus classified, she would proceed direct to the shelf, box 
or corner, and lo ! it would be there. A prominent fea- 
ture of the shop window’s display was a collection of 
bottles labelled, “The Never Fail, Boggs & Co., sole 
agents,” and, if the truth were told, might be added, sole 
purchasers also. She had bought them years before, and 
they had withstood well the ravages of time ; when the 
dust began to obscure their list of cures and directions 
for use, they were removed one by one, freshened and 


LITTLE MAN EN TEE TAINS GREAT HEART. 3/ 

replaced, to look boldly and impudently in the face of the 
passer-by, and make believe they were new recruits come 
to take the places of the veterans in the great and glorious 
work allotted to the “ Never Fail.’’ When the shop door 
tingled, Hiram peeped in to see who the new comer was. 
If Mistress Boggs were engaged elsewhere in the house, 
and if the outlook for a sale was propitious, he disap- 
peared, and she appeared. 

Thus was it with the interior. 

Painted upon a long sign without, was the following 
unique versification, by the head of the firm, ‘‘ Boggs 
& Co. Dealers in everything new and second hand. 

Drop in my friend 
A ha’pence spend 
Just take a look 
In every nook.” 

Above the shop window, when the weather would 
permit, hung a parrot, and her voice it was who called to 
the Little Man. She had been taught — or rather, the 
attempt had been made to teach her — to cry the praises of 
the “ Never Fail," but as she would add her own opinion, 
which, was “It’s a lie ! It won’t cure ! " the attempt had 
been abandoned, and few knew what she meant when she 
thus cried out. Her mistress did not begrudge her the 
food she required, for it was her belief that she drew them 
custom, otherwise Poll would never have enjoyed the 
publicity she did, for everything with Mistress Boggs must 
be turned into a penny or its equivalent. 

Poverty was her constant plea. Six days she labored 
to lay up for moth and thief, on the seventh all about her 
rested ; and she rested also, and when the hour for service 
came she turned th'e key on the lock, and it’s click said 
while Boggs was a step or two in the rear, “ This day 
they turn their faces Zionward, and the shop is closed, the 
parrot silent, while they look to the investments for their 
soul’s eternal welfare, that when they shall be called upon 
suddenly for an inventory, they may not be found want- 
ing in stock.’’ 

Mistress Boggs was a wizzea little woman with small. 


38 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


sharp eyes and a nose which, as the parrot was her senior, 
no doubt was a facsimile of its nose. 

She had a limp on the right side, and as she never 
appeared on the street, except on Sunday, this was dis- 
cernible on no other day, for the shop was so small, and 
so well filled, that each step was necessarily finished before 
she got to the limp. No offspring blessed the union of 
the Boggses, yet her heart always turned warmly toward 
children, and if his did, he did not dare let it be known. 
She was naturally kind and meant ill to no one except 
Boggs, and to him only, because he did not at the outset 
of their married life assert his own rights, so it had be- 
come a second nature to her to make him submissive, 
and then despise him for it. Her leanness was caused 
more by constant toil than any viciousness of nature. 
Her acquaintance with the Little Man had been limited 
to business interests only. She took his “gatherings,” as. 
he called them, and in a very private way supplied many 
mantua-makers with robes, which when remodelled, re- 
trimmed, touched here and there, were sold to the unin- 
itiated at as good a price as new, and oftentimes as “ made 
to order.” Gentlemen’s apparel went to the tailor, the 
haberdasher and the boot-maker — but put of these she 
always reserved what she could sell at a better price in 
her own shop, or use upon her own person, occasionally 
presenting Boggs with what did not, nor would not, fit 
anyone else, or him either. 

Thus it was on Sunday that Mistress Boggs could out- 
shine all the residents of Cross-Cut Lane. 

On this particular morning, she was no little surprised 
to see the Little Man in black without his gatherings, and 
at once scented something new., 

“ Good morning, Mr. Harold ; walk in,” said she, and 
he followed her into the room adjoining the shop, for 
their business was conducted in private. 

“ Good morning, good morning, Mistress Boggs — no 
gatherings, you see, to-day. Had some — yes, had some, 
but left ’em at home, in a hurry for other matters,” replied 
Mr. Harold. 

“Yes, you are always in a hurry — Boggs, the shop- 
bell.” Boggs arose, and the door closed meekly upon him. 


MR. TROUT RECEIVES AN OLD FRIEND. 39 


“ It isn’t a secret I am going to tell you. Mr. Boggs 
needn’t go, he needn’t go.” 

“Perhaps not, but it is just as well; the shop needs 
looking after.” 

“Well, well,” said Mr. Harold, somewhat impatiently. 
He never could help poor Boggs, for his wife was always 
so cool, and met his attempts in such a no-consequence 
sort of way. “ There’s no time to lose ; can you take a 
lodger, a quiet man, who is not like me, always in a hurry ? 
He will not have much to do, and plenty of time to do it. 
He will pay before it is due, any price. He is honest and 
good. Don’t ask him any questions. Mind your business 
and he’ll mind his, ana put many a shilling in your pocket.” 

Mistress Boggs involuntarily put her hand to her 
pocket, almost felt the shillings, and said, “ I’ll take him 
at ten shillings. When will he come 

^ “Can’t say exactly; maybe to-morrow, maybe next 
day. Give him a good bed, for he’ll have plenty of time 
to rest. He’ll pay when he comes. I’ll be here by and 
by, with the gatherings. Good by, good by ; you see Boggs 
needn’t a’ gone out. I’m in a hurry now. This is done 
now ; we’ll hurry and see what comes to be done next. 
Good by, good by.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

MR. TROUT RECEIVES AN OLD FRIEND AND POOR 
FELLOW. 

As Mr. Thump entered his office that morning, he saw 
through the glass door of Mr. Trout’s private room, a 
gentleman in close conversation with him. The inter- 
view was long, and Mr. Trout seemed in no hurry for his 
departure, although Mr. Thump was, for a case of much 
importance was at present requiring the combined atten- 
tion of the attorneys. He waited till the time grew so 
brief before he must appear for their client, that he could 
count it by minutes, and began pacing- the outer office. 


40 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


The conversation of Mr. Trout and his visitor he could 
not help hearing, now and then — not enough to gain much 
information, but sufficient to excite curiosity. His con- 
fidence in his partner’s integrity was not of the firmest. 
He would nibble any bait so long as the hook was silvered, 
and trusted to the future for quieting his conscience. He 
said to himself, “ If I do not do this, some other will, and 
I will spend my old age in making amends.” 

Perhaps he had visions of spending ill-gotten wealth 
upon the endowment of some institution caring for 
those same unfortunate beings whom he had crushed in 
spirit, broken in heart and ruined in pocket. There are 
such charitable men, noble hearted counsellors, who would 
counsel a man into a living tomb, and then leave their 
wealth to gild it. 

But we are not certain that Mr. Trout’s conscience 
possessed sufficient quickening power to trouble him 
much, when he should grow old, and retire from the pro- 
fession’s active duties, and open his eyes every morning 
upon resolutions elegantly framed and hung upon his 
wall, expressing the sincere regrets of honorable members 
of the bar, that so sagacious, so learned, so honest, and so 
upright a man had stepped off the stage. But we are 
looking to Mr. Trout’s possible future, and not dealing 
with the present as we should. « 

Mr. Wallace, for he was the visitor, at last withdrew, 
evidently to the senior member’s unwillingness, and to 
the junior member’s relief. Mr. Trout had seen his part- 
ner’s uneasiness, and grew himself uneasy lest he might 
overhear what he did not want him to know, so he came 
directly out behind Mr. Wallace, who passed Mr. Thump, 
with a pleasant “ good morning, sir,” and when the outer 
door closed, said in a low apologetic tone, lest he too 
might be overheard by his departing visitor, “ An old' 
friend, Mr. Thump — many years since we have met, and 
talking of the past made me forget the duties of the 
present.” 

With all due respect, Mr. Trout, I would say, that 
business, especially that of such importance as the present 
case, should not be sacrificed to the pleasure of friend- 
ship,” said Mr. Thump with dignity. 


MR. TROUT RECEIVES AN OLD FRIEND. 4 1 

** True, true, my good Samuel, how like mother Susan,” 
and the smile was so bland that it threatened to do serious 
injury to the certain facial muscles that made the smile. 
The truth was, that the senior member regarded the good 
opinion of the Junior member as worthy of keeping. The 
sneak and the coward always admires the frank and the 
brave. “ Now let us to business at once.” 

Papers were hurriedly looked over, and consultations 
made not at all satisfactory to Mr. Thump, but quite so 
to Mr. Trout, for he had visions of boundless wealth ac- 
quired by a little strategy, which was only one of the 
requisites to every one in his profession. No one would 
be cheated, and he would be paid for life — no plans were 
laid but he saw the result of them, and was not that 
enough to make him smile .? 

“You must represent the firm at opening of court, 
and I will follow as soon as possible. Detained by busi- 
ness of importance — quite unexpected — you know how to 
arrange matters with our client,” said he. 

So Mr. Thump bore away the papers in his hand, an 
idea in his head, and a suspicion in his heart. The papers 
he made immediate use of, but the idea and the suspicion, 
required time to develop, and circumstances to bring to 
light, so we will patiently wait for such, since we know 
that Samuel Meshach was not so stupid as to believe all 
Mr. Trout had said. 

Mr. Wallace returned to Blue Bottle Court, found the 
door unlocked — there was no need of key where the dog 
was — made some additions to his toilet, gave the starling 
a few dainty crumbs, adjusted the lock so that it would 
fasten when the door was shut, and turned toward Lunley 
Lane and the Wilton, where the blind man and his dog 
Rover were soon found. 

Mr. Trout meantime looked out of the window, looked 
over some document and looked at his watch. 

“ A little strange,” said he to himself, “ that this 
gentleman should call at the very hour I was to receive 
Mr. Marplot, and about the very same estate. Do I like 
this Marplot ? No, for he is a knave, and not a sharp 
one, either. I like to see shrewdness in a client^ as well 
as his attorney,” and he looked into a small mirror which 


43 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


hung opposite, as if he expected to find shrewdness 
therein reflected — and perhaps he did, in his own estima- 
tion. “ Do I like this Wallace 1 No, for he is too honest 
for my purpose; but sometimes honesty is credulous 
enough for a. tool. I will try him.” 

His soliloquy was interrupted by the clerk announc- 
ing, “ A gentleman upon important business, sir.” 

“ Show him in, show him in,” said Mr. Trout, the law- 
yer^ and the gentleman was shown in to Mr. Trout, the 
man. 

“ Good morning, sir, glad to see you, though you are 
a little late; but delays cannot always be prevented,” said 
the attorney extending his hand. 

The hand that met his was shaky, and felt as if it 
were the wrong side of a pin-cushion, and after touching 
it one involuntarily withdrew under the impression he 
had taken a most unpleasant electric shock. The face 
was cleanly shaven and very shiny, the sebaceous glands 
were never idle, for he was always wiping his face and 
neck with his handkerchief. When he was a little excited 
these glands grew excited also, and poured forth their 
secretions faster than he could mop them up. His hair 
was straight, rather long and brushed back so smoothly 
that not one hair would dare rise alone, for all were 
oiled together ; his forehead was high, but knobby like an 
imperfect stick — and the knobs would have puzzled the 
deft fingers of the manipulator of abnormal outgrowths 
of the brain. His eyes were never-the same in expression, 
ever dancing from one object to another, but never look- 
ing anyone else in the eye. His clothes were rusty, bore 
traces of recent travel, and of poverty for a long time. 
His hat was tall like himself, and not freshly ironed. He 
had a sidling gait, and in this manner entered the room. 

“ Good morning,” said he, giving the attorney an elec- 
tric shock, and sidling into a chair." “ Yes, I am late, but 
I’m always afraid I shall meet him. He has caught me, 
you know, and he will again, if he can. I saw a man 
come in here, so I stayed out. It is just as well to run 
no risk. How I hate him,” and the glands filled, and 
overflowed so rapidly, that he had to mop fast. 

“ Did you see the man that came in } ” asked the 


MR. TROUT RECEIVES AN OLD FRIEND, 43 


attorney. “ You need not fear him, if you ever see him 
here again. He would do no one any harm.” 

“ You can’t tell when they are going to harm ; I am 
always on the lookout for hun. He has been gone from 
London a long time, I hear. He always takes long jour- 
neys but this one has been for several years,” said Mar- 
plot. 

“ Perhaps he is dead,” suggested Trout in a soothing 
sort of way. 

“ No, he’s not. He’s one of the kind who will never 
die till all the rest are dead ; he’ll attend everybody’s 
funeral but his own. I know him well,” and he sidled 
about in a frightened way, when the outer door suddenly 
opened and Mr. Thump entered, to the complete discom- 
fiture of the senior 'partner. To be found in his private 
office with another stranger, and not explain the reason, 
would hardly do, but he tried to look unconcerned, and 
trust to his wit to help him make a plausible statement. 
As Marplot saw nothing to fear in the new comer, he con- 
tinued, after a vigorous application of his handkerchief, 
“ If this matter can be settled before he gets back to 
London, I shall never be seen in these parts again. The 
father is dead beyond a doubt. Look at this, and you 
will see why I came this morning.” 

He drew from his pocket a copy of a daily paper, 
several years old, and pointed to a paragraph in the 
“ Foreign News.” Mr. Trout took it eagerly, and read 
among the list of officers stricken by an epidemic in India, 
the name of Col. Ray, and further down the column a 
brief sketch of his life, a eulogy upon his bravery, up- 
rightness, and above all his consideration and kindness 
for all under his command. 

“ Very good,” said the attorney, “that will be as good 
a witness as we need — from it we can get the official rec- 
ord. Now I must look to the remaining heirs myself.” 

Marplot started, and in surprised tones said, “ Why 
must you ? I tell you the truth. There is but one, and 
she is in this town. I said there is but one — no, she is 
not the heir, she must not be. Don’t you see how un- 
fair t’ would be 1 The other estate is enough for her, for 
I am a poor devil.” 


44 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“Yes, and would be a devil if rich,” interrupted the 
lawyer, laughingly. “You know. Marplot, you are no 
stranger to me. How many times I’ve kept you from 
sinking.” 

“ I’ve given up that habit long ago. Now I want to 
look out for myself when I’m old, and as I said, I’m a poor 
devil, and if I get this the public will be that much better 
off, for it won’t have me to take care of.” This forcible 
argument started the glands into renewed action, and of 
course brought the handkerchief into requisition again. 

“ Then you look at it in the light of a public benefac- 
tion, do you 1 ” laughed Mr. Trout, “and want me to do 
the same.” 

“ Yes, that is just it,” replied the client smiling feebly, 
“ and we’ll always see it that way. I knew she would 
come when she was old enough — that is, come with your 
help,” and he wiped rapidly, as he made an effort to 
strengthen the smile. “ Ha ! that was a master-stroke I 
made then — a long look ahead too.” 

With this recollection. Marplot showed for the mo- 
ment some of the spirit that had been his in younger 
years. He had, by searching for heirs to unclaimed 
property, put the larger slice of many a fair fortune in his 
pocket — but the pocket’s outlet he made believe greater 
than its inlet — the gambler’s debts were always heavy. 

“Are you sure she is here already.?” asked Trout, 
with a quizzing look, as if he were examining a witness 
in court. 

“Yes, Ralph came on the same vessel.” 

“Ralph — Ralph,” said the lawyer, “a new friend — 
and who pray might he be .?” 

Marplot stammered, wiped away the perspiration rap- 
idly, colored, slipped to the other side of his chair, and 
without looking up, was conscious of the lawyer’s search- 
ing gaze, and finally said, 

“Yes, the son of an- old friend. He was left alone in 
the world, and for once I was charitable, and when I 
had means helped him, so now, he looks out for himself.” 

“ It’s all a lie,” muttered Trout as he bent over some 
papers, “ I know you to be a deceptive old fool, who can 
lay a plan well, but always tell something you’ve no busi- 


MR. TROUT RECEIVES AN OLD FRIEND. 45 


fiess to — just as you’ve done now — upset your own dish.” 
But he looked up, and with his bland smile replied, 

“ Everybody has something good in him, but now, 
this man should help you in your need, if you did so to 
him. You are the worse for wear,” and he looked at his 
own shining boots and clean broadcloth, and then at the 
worn shoes and rusty black of his client. 

“ He would, if I would accept it, but I have a little 
independence left and must do for myself, and if — ” 

“ But how did he know the lady ?” the lawyer inter- 
rupted, to lead him back to the object of most interest. 

“ He had heard me speak of her father, and so remem: 
bered the name — and mentioned it accidently,” returned 
Marplot, still cringing under the lawyer’s look. “ Quite 
fortunate for me that, he happened to mention it.” 

“Yes, quite,” replied Trout, and to himself he added, 
“Ha! there again you’ve let yourself out. You’ve got 
an accomplice besides me, and you mean more mischief, 
than you let me know. I’ll track you. I can plot, and you 
can plot, but you are well named a Mar-plot ; you don’t 
mar my plot though. I know a man who sees without eyes, 
and you will never mistrust him.” 

“ Where is the lady ?” 

“At No. 40 Chapel Street.” 

“And how came you to know that.?” It was the at- 
torney’s time to look surprised. 

“ All accident again ; you see the fates favor me. She 
asked Ralph to call a cab, and he of course directed the 
driver where to leave her.” 

Marplot by this time was gaining more confidence in 
himself, for he believed he was duping his counsellor- 
quite successfully. If there was any doubt, he was going 
to claim the benefit thereof, and went on still more as- 
suredly. * - 

“ It is the first time in my life I was ever so fortunate 
as to have the desired information drop right into my 
hands. But now, let me see what is to be done. First, 
Mr. Trout, you want this paper, I suppose ? ” 

“ Well, yes, I will retain it for reference.” But as he 
began to look as if the interview were getting to be a bore. 
Marplot taking the hint, arose, and bidding him “good 


46 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


day,” with the information that as they had not discussed 
a plan of proceeding, he might drop in any time, sidled out 
without giving the lawyer a shock, much to the latter’s 
relief. 

As the client walked out, he was sharply eyed by Mr. 
Thump, though unconsciously, for he was saying to him- 
self, “ There, I have let him know that I have means of 
finding out things without his help. He will be more 
careful how he manages. He is full of tricks.” 

As the counsellor turned to documents, whose exami- 
nation the client had interrupted, he said to himself, “ He 
has told too much. He would be a knave if he could be 
more discreet. He is crafty enough. He does not know 
that I summoned her to England, that I secured the lodg- 
ing at No. 40. S. S. Trout is too deep for you, my man. 
But I must find another place for our interviews. Yes, this 
will not do, he must never come here again — I know 
where I can see him. That will disarm the suspicions of 
my honest partner. He thinks 1 am slippery. Well ! 
well, some other would do it, if I did not. There will 
be plenty of time in the future to do good. When I am 
old I shall have nothing else to do.” 

With this consolation he met Mr. Thump, who in- 
formed him the case had been postponed, and he had hur- 
ried back to save him the walk. 

“ Thank you, thank you,” said his partner, “ I should 
have followed at once, but that poor fellow came in and 
detained me. I felt sorry for him, and so listened to his 
story. No case at all ; particulars not worth repeating.” 

Ah ! ” said Mr. Thump. 


CHAPTER VII, 

MRS. MUTTER, NO. 40 CHAPEL STREET. 

A CAB Stopped in a retired street, the light from its 
lamp shone upon the number forty. 

“ This is the ’ouse, ma’m.” And the driver pulled the 
bell. 


MRS. MUTTER, NO. 40 CHAPEL STREET. 47 


The call was answered by a boy, whose look of “ What 
do y’ want?” was answered by the cabman. “ Call yer 
mistress ; ’ere’s a lady.” 

The mistress appeared, the cabby disappeared and 
the boy also, for the mistress had said, “ Fetch in the lady 
and her luggage.” 

The cabby and the boy soon came to the surface, 
bearing the portable contents of the cab, which they de- 
posited in the hall. The lady without the aid of either, 
but conducted by the mistress, deposited herself in the 
parlor. As she was doing this, Zeke — that was the boy — 
caught sight of her face. The box he was handling fell 
to the ground with such abruptness as to endanger its 
contents, provided they were breakable : at the same time 
his lower jaw dropped* but to this there was no danger, 
for its dropping was of too frequent occurrence. 

“ Je-ru-sa-lem ! but she’s pretty.” 

This exclamation was overheard by the landlady, who 
said sharply, “ Zeke, where’s your place, and where’s your 
manners.” 

Zeke proceeded to carry the luggage up to the second 
floor, end room. Mrs. Mutter anxious to make amends 
for Zeke’s audacity, and impress upon the new comer an 
idea of the remarkable facility with which she put all 
strangers at ease, and made them “ feel perfectly at home ” 
in her house, began at once, and might have continued to 
this day, had nothing switched her tongue on to another 
track, “ ’Ope you’re well. Miss, and ’ad a good voyage ; were 
you sick ? ’Ad good company ? it’s dull being alone, and 
you’re so young to come by yourself. Now, when I was 
young, girls always ’ad old folks with ’em. But you come 
from America ; they don’t think a girl needs protection 
there. Girls protect themselves, I hear. Well, dear me, 
it’s the best way. Now look at me since dear Mr. Mutter 
passed away. He was a good man ; I ’ave his picture. 
All the lodgers wish he was alive now, but I tell ’em if he 
was, that they wouldn’t be under my roof. Mr. Mutter 
would never hear to such a thing. Then they don’t know 
what to say, for they can’t just say they are glad he is 
dead, out of respect to my feelings.” 

As this was said with no perceptible pause to take 


48 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


breath, the lady knew the cessation must come sooner or 
later, and after one or two ineffectual attempts of “ yes ” 
or “ no,” as the question demanded, she resignedly lis- 
tened and waited. To her infinite relief she changed the 
subject, but took no breath. 

“ You must be tired. I’ll show you up, it’s the second 
flight, end room — the only vacancy. Miss ; lodgers speak 
for my apartments months a’ead. I wish Zeke and I 
’ad kept count of ’ow many we’ve turned away who 
wanted this room. It’s worrying, sometimes, to be so 
popular.” Here she paused, and the new lodger thought, 
“ And how much more worrying to be so voluble.” 

At the announcement, “ I will show you up,” the 
action suited the words, and by this time they were on 
the second flight, and in the end room. The exertion of 
ascending to the second floor had caused Mrs. Mutter to 
take breath at last, and the lady said, “ You are kind 
and I—” 

“ No, no.” By this time the lungs were freshly sup- 
plied, and she proceeded without pardon for interrup- 
tion ; indeed she never thought anyone Could or cared to 
talk when she was about. “ I’m not kind, only do my 
duty as ’ead of the family. Your room. Miss, looks hout 
on this court; but nice folks live there. You’ll get the 
sun in the morning : now make yourself at ’ome ; ’ere’s 
water and ’ere’s a towel, and if you want anything, tell 
Zeke ; ’e’s always around. Come down to supper when 
you’re ready,” and the door closed upon her, bringing 
relief from the incessant clatter, and quiet for the over- 
wrought nerves. 

The supper table brought little rest either to the nerves 
of the new lodger or the tongue of the landlady, and after 
a hasty meal the new comer retired. 

At breakfast Mrs. Mutter’s social nature had full play. 
If it had slumbered through the night — and it is to be 
hoped it had — it awoke in the morning fresh for action. 
The sun struggled, the fog struggled, and she struggled — 
the last the hardest — in endeavoring to convince Miss 
Ray that England was the greatest country on the globe. 

“ Look at our hinstitutions, look at our parks, at our 
lords and ladies, at our Tower and palaces,” but she did 


MRS. MUTTER, NO. 40 CHAPEL STREET. 49 

not say, look at our poor, who are made still poorer by 
the government. “ Look at our harmy, and our navy and 
our good Queen’s possessions, on which the sun never 
sets.” 

^The sun made no reply to this, although his name was 
brought into question : he struggled on hoping to throw 
some light into the dark, narrow and dirty lanes that 
opened from Chapel Street, where the inmates of No. 40 
dwelt. The lady ventured to remark that England’s 
glories were no doubt many and great, when Mrs. Mut- 
ter, who had stopped to take breath and cut a small slice 
of bacon in proportion to the number of these inmates, 
continued, “ But no one can ever know them unless they 
’ave always lived here. I was born and bred on this very 
spot. Nobody can tell me hanything about this country. 
My father was a tradesman, kept shop on Cheap Side 
thirty years. As his daughter I bought to know the bles- 
sings I’ve inherited. Now, Miss Ray — I think that’s your 
name ?” 

The lady bowed. 

Mrs. Mutter says, “ Might be I knew your mother when 
she was young.” 

If you did, thought the new lodger, it is more than I 
ever did. 

“ I was born and bred, as I said before, on this very 
spot, and I used to know a great many girls — ” 

“ I think you could never have known my mother,” 
ventured Miss Ray. 

“ Well, now it strikes me, and so hit did when you 
come last night, that I’ve seen somebody that looks just 
like you,” continued Mrs. Mutter. 

“ Perhaps so,” was the quiet reply. I hope no one is 
so unfortunate as to be like me, was the reservation. 

Determined not to be baffled in the presence of so 
many the landlady resumed, “ Ray, Ray ; I once ’ad a 
cousin who married a man by that name.” 

“Indeed,” was the surprised reply. 

“ Maybe related. Did your grandfather live on Regent 
Street 

“ My grandfather was not an Englishman,” returned 
Miss Ray, more to stop Mrs. Mutter’s tongue, than from 


50 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


any possible knowledge whether she ever had a grand- 
father or not. 

A pause here, which was an uncommon thing when 
the landlady was about, gave the new comer a chance to 
leave, which she did. Glad to be alone she looked out, or 
tried to look out, of the window in the end room, second 
floor, but the bricks were so near, the alley so narrow, the 
air so thick, and the glass so dirty, that she abandoned 
the effort and sat down. The landlady and some of the 
lodgers whose business did not hurry them from the table, 
remained to discuss who she was, and why she had come 
to England. Her room had been secured, and its price 
paid in advance, by the well known London solicitor, S. S. 
Trout. 

Meanwhile the lady was querying over the same 
things, and had no more settled them to her own satisfac- 
tion, than had the lodgers below to theirs, when a knock 
at the door startled her, and before she could respond, 
the door flew open, a card entered and Zeke behind it. 
The card bore the name of S. S. Trout, the boy bore the 
message, “If Miss Ray is too tired. I’ll come again." 

“ Are y’ tired and he lingered to catch another 
look at the bright, pretty face before him. 

“ Say to the gentleman I will be down directly," and 
involuntarily she began to arrange a ribbon here, smooth a 
wrinkle there, put aside a stray lock, and take a peep into 
the little glass which did not reflect the sweet face as it 
should have done, but did the best it could. The fault 
was in the maker, and not in the good-will of the glass. 
However, Miss Ray had often seen herself under the most 
favorable conditions, and knew her nose was where it 
should be and her mouth not awry. She descended, 
wondering if her visitor were young or old, handsome or 
ugly, married or single ; entered the parlor, and saw a 
man no longer young nor yet old ; not handsome, and yet 
she had seen uglier faces ; not married, but if fate and 
fortune, especially the latter, favored him, would not long 
be single. 


JOE APPEARS FOR BUSINESS. 


51 


CHAPTER VIII. 

JOE APPEARS FOR BUSINESS — THE FAME AND FORTUNE 
HEREAFTER. 

Joe had not kept faith with Mr. Wallace, for he was 
already due, and more than due at Jericho, but he could 
not leave Mrs. Blake until all had been done that lay in 
his power for her relief. We all feel, when death has 
touched a dear one, that what he leaves must be handled 
with sympathy and love. Joe possessed sympathy for 
the mother, and love for all children. 

When he renewed the journey to Pascal his feet never 
loitered, and he made so good time that he reached there 
long before nightfall, and so was several miles on the next 
stage before he took lodging. 

He enquired the distance to the All Welcome, hoping 
if up betimes the next morning he might be there to take 
breakfast with its hospitable keeper. But the sun not so 
weary with his day’s journey, and having sought rest ear- 
lier, was up before him — and through the small curtainless 
window of the little inn peeped, shyly at first, and as Joe 
still slept, grew bolder and looked squarely into his eyes. 
This had the desired effect, and he bounded out upon , 
the floor ; hastily dressing, and hastily eating, his feet were 
soon on the way to where All were Welcome, but he in 
particular, when he mentioned the name of Mr. Wallace; 
from boots in the yard, to mine host at the bar, all did 
him honor. The latter would accept no compensation, 
and with a much lighter heart, fuller stomach and fleeter 
step, he, with plain directions, was on his way to Jeri- 
cho, where he arrived just as Mr. Wallace and his dog 
were turning the nearest corner. Joe’s manner was hon- 
est and frank, Mr. Wallace’s questioning and surprised. 

“ You are late, but let me hear your reasons, friend ; 

I never pre-judge. Come in first,” and he led the way to 
where travellers who stopped were sure to be refreshed, 
called for supper to be served as soon as possible, and 
brushing the dust from his clothes, washing it from face 
and hands, Joe was ready to clear it from throat and 
stomach with the foaming ale Mr. Wallace had ordered. 


52 


THUMP'S CLIENT.. 


The meal being finished, Joe said, ‘^You began to 
think that I was false ?” 

“ I had not quite made up my mind, Joe. I sent you 
on foot and alone, that you might have time for medita- 
tion and escape, if you were not satisfied with my terms ; 
otherwise I should have brought you on the road with 
me,” said Wallace ; “ and what venture or adventure has 
kept you ?” 

“Neither one nor the other to me,” replied Joe. “I 
was with a little soul as it passed into eternity — as it took 
its venture into the other life; ” and a tear fell into the 
foaming ale as he recounted the sad scene he had wit- 
nessed in the humble home of the Blake’s. 

Mr. Wallace listened in sympathy and self-interest — 
sympathy for the sorrowing mother, and self-interest in its 
thereby disclosing another trait in the character of Joe. 
He was, so far, satisfied. 

“ Now, Joe,” resumed he, after the table was cleared 
and they were alone,” business must begin in the morn- 
ing. You will take lodgings in Cross-Cut Lane, at the 
second-hand shop of Boggs & Co. Very worthy people, 
you will no doubt find them, but your business is not with 
them, except so far as to pay them for what they give you, 
which you will do in advance ; neither is their business 
with you except to give you what they agree to. Your 
room will overlook No. 40 Chapel Street, and you will note 
carefully the outgoers and incomers. You will particu- 
larly note one Trout, a solicitor of Lunley Lane ; a man 
a little too broad for his length, encased in the shiniest 
of boots, and blackest of broadcloth ; the whitest of linen, 
and wearing the blandest of smiles. His nose you will see 
a little before you. see him, if the way is clear ; if the way 
is not clear, it will be drawn in, and his face will have no 
outrider. Can you tell this man if you see him ?” 

Joe replied that without any doubt in his own mind 
he could. 

“ Very good,” continued Mr. Wallace, “you will also 
especially note a man who wears the brownest of boots, 
the rustiest of black, and the shabbiest of hats, whose nose 
you will not be likely to see, for his head is never erect ; 
his hand is always just putting into or taking from his 


JOE APPEARS FOR BUSINESS, 


53 


pocket a dirty handkerchief, which either a real or imag- 
inary perspiration is constantly calling forth. He never 
takes a straightforward manly step either in acting or 
walking ; he sidles into a mean action, and he has no other, 
and sneaks out of it, wiping off the meanness as it oozes 
through every pore ; he sidles into a street, and he sneaks 
out of it. Would you know him ?” 

Joe again assured him of confidence in his ability to 
distinguish this individual from all others. 

“ So,” Mr. Wallace went on, “ you will note — but I 
forgot to say the owner of all this meanness and the dirty 
pocket-handkerchief is Marplot. If you should ever hear 
his name, you will know whom it means. You will note 
the young lady who occupies the end room on the second 
floor; your window will overlook hers. If she appears on 
the street, be on the street too, and give me the most ac- 
curate discription of her, and note where she goes. Al- 
ways be attending to your own business apparently, but 
to theirs really. Never appear often enough to create 
suspicion ; dishonesty is argus-eyed, remember, and we 
must work cautiously. Can you do what I require ? If 
you need any guidance during the day,* you will find a 
blind man at the corner of Lunley Lane and the Wilton, 
who will aid you ; at night you will find me here.” For 
the third time Joe expressed faith in himself, readiness 
to obey Mr. Wallace’s commands, and being weary, 
retired. 

The dog had heard his master, and the master now 
turned to the dog for his approval of the confidence he 
had given their new acquaintance; and after repeated 
scentings of the tracks Joe’s soiled shoes had made upon 
the bare floor, he seemed satisfied, and laid his head on 
his master's knee, as if to say, “ I smell no cause for 
alarm.” Wallace patted him and said, “ Let us go and 
see Dearie.” The dog did not readily acquiesce — he did 
not think, evidently, that the society of Dearie compen- 
sated for the long walk to her residence, — but like the 
faithful dog he was, did not consider his feelings in the 
matter, and the two were soon on their way to Blue Bottle 
Court. 

A rap on the door, a hurrying within, another rap and 


54 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


more hurrying, when the Little Man in black drew back 
the bolt, and dressed as if for a journey of no short dis- 
tance — for he carried a heavy walking stick, and over his 
shoulders had thrown a large cloak — stepped out suddenly, 
and would have stepped off as suddenly, had he not per- 
ceived who the visitors were. 

“ Ah ! Great Heart, is it you 1 Come in, come ! I find 
it always best to be going out in a hurry when there is a 
rap, and if I don’t want to see the person who raps, why, 
of course he wouldn’t stay when I am hurrying out. Ha ! 
ha ! this hurry that I am always in keeps me out of a 
world of trouble, and sometimes gets me into it, too. But 
if I know it in time, I hurry so that it can’t overtake me 
and he turned back and led his guests into the room, 
where Dearie and all the curiosities were ready to receive 
them. The starling, with her “ Time’s up, time’s up,” was 
the first to receive attention from Mr. Wallace. That 
done to her satisfaction, or at least so near it as to keep 
her quiet for some time with her crumbs and grains, the 
visitor threw himself into the large chair, and passing 
his hand over his forehead said, ‘‘ Isaac, if anything hap- 
pens to me, yoA must finish my work.” 

The Little Man started so with surprise that he lost 
hold of the peg on which he was hanging his cloak, and 
it fell on him so completely, covering him in its ample 
folds, that he was some time finding his way out. And when 
he came to light he was dismayed to find the black silk 
cap which covered his head tightly, had not been so suc- 
cessful ; and as he spied himself in the little glass opposite, 
the dismay turned to merriment, the merriment found 
vent in a few somersaults, the last one of which ended in 
plunging under the cloak with head as bare and shiny as 
an infant’s, and emerging with the cap in place and the 
bareness and the brilliancy nowhere to be seen. 

All this happened in such a twinkling that Mr. Wal- 
lace did not see the cause of the somersaults, and said, 
“ Why, Isaac, you are merry to-night.” 

“ No, no, it’s the way I take my cloak off. Great Heart. 
I can’t be merry when you are sad. Now tell me what 
the matter is, and we will see if we can’t hurry over it, or 
hurry under, or hurry around — any way to keep trouble 


JOE APPEARS FOR BUSINESS. 


55 


out of our sack, and out of the gatherings.” And so say- 
ing he drew up the old prte dieu^ laid his arm across Wal- 
lace’s knee, laid his- chin on his arm and continued : 

“ Great Heart, nothing will happen to you — they tell 
me so, they come to me in my dreams ; you know I al- 
ways saw them, even when the days were so dark and I 
was in a hurry to get over there with them. They told 
me then I couldn’t come, but I didn’t believe them, and 
tried to go. They wouldn’t let me, but brought you to 
me, and how you hurried trouble out of my sack. That 
sack was the heaviest I ever carried,” and he spoke slowly, 
thoughtfully and sadly, as he recalled a bitter past. 

He was silent for a moment, as if listening, and look- 
ing up brightly, continued, “ Great Heart, you are all 
right, but what makes you feel the sack heavy is because 
they are all, every one, now in the Great Chimney. Ha ! 
this chimney, how it puffs and smokes and groans with 
its foulness and its fogs ! “ How glad I am when the 

gatherings take me into the clean, green fields and pure 
air. I look back at the Great Chimney, and see its 
breath rising, ah ! so black and dirty. I hurry out of it, 
and I hurry back into it — for there is ^o much to do, 
that I can’t stay where the breath is clear. Ha! ha! 
how we all scramble in this Great Chimney. Those who 
are near the top are no better satisfied than those at the 
bottom. The lords and the ladies who can ride through 
its foulness and its fogs find no more rest than the poor 
bodies who are scrambling in the soot below. They all 
hurry after something — and most of them don’t know 
what that is.” 

“You are right, Isaac, few have a purpose, perhaps. 
But now let us look at the papers. It is some time since I 
have seen them, and yet I know every word and line they 
contain. I am puzzled again. There is one at No. 40 
Chapel Street ; one who will claim, through Trout the 
lawyer — a wily adviser you know — the estate. I cannot 
make myself yet sure of her. At all events, whether she 
be true or false there is danger. The man for whom I 
wanted lodgings at Boggs Sc Co. is now ready for them. 
He will watch faithfully, I think. If he cannot succeed in 
giving me a perfect description of her, you might be able 


56 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


to find some gatherings there, perhaps of no great value, 
for the lodgers are plain and the house unpretentious.” 

“ The value is in what I gather for you. Great Heart, 
and not for the sack,” said the Little Man, going to the 
secret drawer and taking therefrom a small box with a 
hidden fastening, which he handed to Mr. Wallace, who 
opened it and laid out a few papers neatly folded, and 
having a freshness about their creases which showed 
they had not long been on deposit. But these were not 
what he sought ; they remained on his knee unnoticed, 
while his eyes rested upon something left within. The 
eyes filled, overflowed, and there were glistening drops on 
the something within which he took out almost reverently. 
It was a sheet of paper, well worn, but not by time so 
much as by tide. He read, re-read, and yet he knew long 
before all it contained. 

He pressed his lips upon it, as if it were the forehead 
of the dead ; he laid it down, as if he were laying a loved 
form in its coffin ; he covered it with the other papers, as 
if he were strewing flowers before the earth should fall ; 
he closed the box and handed it back to his friend, as the 
mourner turns away that he may not hear the cold clods’ 
hollow sounds, as they strike the last covering of the mor- 
tal. He bowed his head, saying, “ I came here wavering 
in faith, I go back full of courage. This paper always 
gives me new life.” 

“ And makes you sad. Great Heart,” said Isaac. 

“Yes, but I should be sadder without it. I must go 
now. Meet Joe at the corner of Lunley and the Wilton, 
where the blind man stands, and introduce him to his 
new home, and to Mistress Boggs.” 

At mention of the blind man, the Little Man began 
his evolutions, and when they were finished, looked laugh- 
ingly at Mr. Wallace, saying, “Will he be there .?” 

“ I presume so,” replied Wallace, “ he seldom misses a 
day.” 

“Where will you be?” asked Isaac. Just then the 
starling cried, “ Time’s up ! time’s up !” which prevented 
a reply, and with a hearty good night and God bless you, 
master and dog turned towards Jericho. 


FOUND, A BODY, 


57 


CHAPTER IX. 

FOUND, A BODY. 

' London smoke, London fog, and London Bridge, all 
combined to conceal a boat whose crew consisted of a man 
and a boy, captain and mate, whose propelling powers 
consisted of a sail and four paddles, whose voyage with- 
out consistency was lighted by the stars’ dull twinkle 
through the misty surroundings, and only traced by the 
plash, plash of the oars, and whose quiet was suddenly 
broken by — 

“ A little to the lee. Gaff, and spread your sail.” 

Gaff obeyed his father’s orders, spread the sail, which 
filled with wind, and the little craft sped up the stream in 
spite of the opposing current. Gaff was first mate and 
all hands ; the rudder and sail were subject to him. At a 
slight turn of the boat, he observed, or rather felt, a float- 
ing substance. 

“Hullo, dad, ’ere’s suthin in the water.” The old 
skipper strained his eyes to see what the “ suthin” was, 
as a dark object was being borne along by the tide. 

“ Take yer ’ook, boy, and try to ketch it.” 

Gaff again obeyed orders, steered the boat as near the 
object as possible, sent out the hook, and almost sent 
himself with it. His efforts were rewarded by finding the 
“suthin.” It was a lifeless body. They drew it to, and 
info the boat, gazed upon it, or tried to, by the dim light 
of the stars. Gaff and the old man — for Gaff considered 
himself first in the’ matter — wondered what profit could 
be made out of this night’s venture. Would there be a 
reward offered 1 had they better conceal the body a day 
or two to give an opportunity } 

The sight, revolting to many, was so familiar to them 
that they shrank not from immediate contact. They ex- 
amined minutely the clothing, and made a rough estimate 
of its value. Jewellery was searched for by the dim light 
of a lantern. 

“ ’Ere’s a good big ring,” said Gaff, and wrenched it 
from the finger, which had already begun to swell. 


58 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


They examined it carefully, and discovered that which 
required the combined education of the two to make out 
— “ Henry to Maria.” 

With some distrust for the younger member ^of the 
firm, the senior partner drew forth a long leathern'' purse 
and dropped into it the sacred pledge, where were a few 
old coins, which he carried, he said, for “ good luck.” 

The ring met the metal, and the metal gave forth a 
mournful clink, which seemed to say, “ Why are you here, 
and where is your owner .?” But the ring gave no re- 
sponse ; it sank into the bottom of the purse, as its owner 
the day before silently sank into the bed of the river. 

The body was pushed out, secured to the stern, and 
in time the boat rounded to shore under the cover of 
heaven’s blue vault. The stars now shone clear and bright, 
the clouds and fog had dispersed. The gray dawn of day 
was scarcely perceptible in the eastern horizon when 
father and son anchored the boat, fastened the body by 
a rope tied about the waist to an old pile, gathered the 
paddles, the hook, the cords, the bits of driftwood, and a 
hat the tide bore to them ; it might have been blown from 
a passing steamer, or it might have refused the watery 
grave its owner had sought, it mattered little to the skip- 
per. They gathered the contents of the boat, which 
could be gathered by hands who did not own them, and 
stepped ashore. 

“ Snatcher can’t keep a lookout on this : it be worth 
suthin I’m thinkin’,” said Gaff, looking questioningly at the 
old man, and I’m ready for a hot breakfast. I never 
draw’d one in afore but would come easy-like after you 
got a good hold on ’em, but she didn’t want to come. I 
’spose she didn’t want to go,” he added, as if the reason 
were a plausible one, and had suddenly occurred to him ; 
and he turned and looked at the body as if for confirma- 
tion, when it turned too, and seizing the old man’s arm in 
terror he pointed to it. 

The latter — not easily frightened, and yet somewhat 
superstitious when he could not at a glance account for 
things out of the usual course — looked at Gaff, looked at 
the body, but did not look at the heavy swell made by 
a large boat going across the river, at some distance to 


FOUND, A BODY. 


59 


be sure. The tide and the swell were both going the 
same way, and tiied to take the body too, but the rope 
and the pile made such resistance that they could do 
naught but turn it over and pass, and this they did as 
Gaff was reasoning. 

“ The poor thing is uneasy in this water, sure a nuff,” 
said the old man, the bronzed face growing many shades 
whiter, “ and what must she be in t’other!” 

“At rest at last, let us hope, uncle,” said a sweet voice 
at his side. 

The old man still more startled, turned and replied, 
“ Why, Meg, I wouldn’t a been more surprised if she’d 
spoke herself. Now what brought. ye ’ere.? It’s no time 
for you to be out. Why ye’ve been cryin’, child ; I can’t 
'ave that and the rough, hard hand smoothed back 
the short locks the wind had disarranged, and drew over 
the eyes the veil which was wound about the head, over 
which was drawn the hood to a long cloak. He did this 
as if to protect the face, but really to shut out the floating 
prize. 

Too late ! The girl tore off the veil, and pointing to the 
body — a sickening sight in the cold gray of the morning, 
as the rising tide swashed over it and sent it nearer to the 
piles, as if there were hope of rest upon land, but only to 
be borne back — “ That is why I could not sleep, but must 
come here. Did she look like that ? Don’t take me away, 
I cannot go yet ; no, I must look again — she is young, not 
much older than I. Why — why must such things be, 
uncle .? I must have’ heard this same washing, washing 
of the water on that dreadful night, or else it would not 
sound so familiar, for I hear the water every night, but it 
never sounds like this. Has she too been wronged out 
of a happy life.? If no one claims her, where will she be 
buried .? Oh ! this is awful. The hook did not hurt her, 
did it .? I felt her in the water, and that was why I could 
not sleep, and why I cried,” said Meg, now looking with 
a horrible fascination at the water, now covering her face 
with her hands as if to shut it out, now holding her hood 
closely over her ears. “The washing, washing, that is 
what I heard — like a hungry monster lapping its prey.” 

The old man had never seen the girl in such a mood 


6o 


THUMP’S CLIENT, 


before, and was at a loss what to do. Gaff seldom ven- 
tured a suggestion on any subject when on land, so stood 
silently looking on, having forgotten his desire for a 
speedy breakfast. He was as fond of Meg as it was pos- 
sible for him to be, but he always stood afar off, as if she 
were too sacred for him to approach. She had softened 
his^anners, tempered his disposition, warmed his heart, 
tau^t him to read, and would have taught him to write, 
but as he insisted the latter should be done upon a rough 
board with a charred stick, his performances in that art 
were neither legible nor rapid. 

Since she had come into his life. Gaff’s mental horizon 
had been much extended, and he looked forward to being 
master of his own actions with broader views than one 
would think he could possibly expand to. All perplexi- 
ties, of a mental, moral or spiritual nature, he always sub- 
mitted to her, and then sometimes did as he pleased, but 
found whenever he did so, he landed on a barren shore* 
so that he had grown to be guided by her judgment. But 
here was a case in which she could not help him, so with- 
out endeavoring to help himself, or her either, he stood 
still and looked at her sympathizingly, and yet with but 
a vague idea of what was the matter, then at the body 
greedily, as if counting its value. 

Its clothing indicated wealth, its face indicated purity, 
and a something, perhaps its immortal hovering over the 
mortal, indicated the true woman. To Gaff it only in- 
dicated an ample reward, if friends had already sought 
her. He and the old man, or rather, the old man alone, 
was well advised concerning all rewards offered : they had 
seen none for this, and the body must have been in the 
water long enough to excite alarm. 

The stir among the crew of the sloops and other 
small craft that lay at anchor near, gave the old man an 
excuse for saying to Meg, who had resisted all attempts to 
draw her away, “There’ll soon be a crowd ’ere, child; 
the river-men be already aloft, and ye mustn’t be found 
’ere. They’ll take ’er out as soon as I tell ’em, but first — ’’ 
he checked himself from saying, “ 1 must see if anyone 
has advertised for this.’’ He possessed a delicacy when 
in her presence wholly foreign to so rough and rude a 


FOUND, A BODY. 


6i 


nature. The gem never sparkles till it is cleaned, cut and 
polished, yet the power to do so is innate. He knew she 
would shrink from the idlers who would soon flock about 
like vultures, and so she was willingly led away. Once or 
twice she tried to turn back, but the old man always raised 
his arm to adjust his hat, or draw his coat collar closer, 
so that she saw nothing more, but she still heard the 
washing, washing, for she drew the hood tighter about her 
ears. 

Gaff, at a sign from his father, had remained to see 
that neither landsmen nor watermen interfered with their 
booty. He was tired, hungry, sleepy, and cross, so he 
jumped into the boat, and doing this slipped upon some- 
thing on the bottom, and almost slipped into the river. 
With a mild oath at his awkwardness he sat down, curled 
himself in a heap, and slept while he watched. He had 
often done this before ; thus resting while being on the 
alert for intruders. No, he did not sleep and he did not 
rest : whenever he moved his foot slipped upon the same 
thing on which he had slid into the boat — it was some- 
thing that seemed uneasy like the body ; so to make him- 
self more easy he reached down, and out of the mud and 
slime drew a small parcel longer than wide : he opened 
the outer covering, a sort of oiled silk, and found a few 
letters clinging closely to each other. He looked carefully 
about ; no one was near, and he slipped them into his 
pocket.- 

He was still hungry, but neither sleepy nor tired, and 
waited, patiently, for more light to read their address. It 
seemed a gigantic task — but it might open to him a mine 
of wealth, for to Gaff, whose wants were so few, a hundred 
pounds or more was an exhaustless treasure. 

The sun arose, but one unused to the smoke and fog 
would have declared it behind time ; the crews of the river 
crafts arose, and many of them saw Gaff, and Gaff saw 
them ; so buttoning his coat closely, he made no attempt 
to read, but prepared himself to answer questions which 
would soon be plied to him from idlers on shore. One 
and another came, peered over and into the water, asked 
who it was, and what probably caused death. To some 
he gave curt replies, which meant “ None of your busi- 


62 


THUMBS CLIENT. 


ness to others he spoke of the prize as “ a nice un,” and 
made a few suggestions. 

After breakfasting hastily, and seeing that Meg was 
well cared for, the old man first ascertained what reward 
had been offered for the missing — satisfied himself that 
none had been proposed for this one, and so notified the 
proper person, that he might inspect “ the sweetest body 
ever ’ooked in.” 

This unusual summons gave the inspector so much 
curiosity to see what had been found, that, more promptly 
than could be expected from one in the discharge of a 
public duty, he accompanied the old man to where Gaff 
watched and waited. The crowd gathered rapidly and 
gazed morbidly ; the inspector inspected, the body was 
drawn in, the rope untied, the cart was driven near, the 
dripping drooping figure pushed in, and the driver and 
horse looked toward the Morgue. 


CHAPTER X. 

SUSAN THUMP NEVER NEGLECTS HER DUTY. 

“Found Drowned — The body of an unknown female, 
age about twenty, hair black, complexion dark, clothing 
rich, figure tall, neither jewelry nor papers. Any infor- 
mation leading to identification will be received at the 
office of the Morgue.” 

As Susan Thump sat the next morning sipping her 
rose-flavored tea, and conning the latest horrors in the 
Daily Bee, her eye lighted upon the above — at the same 
time there was a gentle yet nervous tap at the outer door. 

“Samuel objects to my opening the door,” she said 
to herself. “ It is well enough to keep a maid for the 
kitchen, but I like to be as friendly as when we did not 
have as much as we have now,” and she gazed with pride 
at the silver tea-urn — wherein she saw a good-natured face 
in a dainty white cap, whose strings fell over a snowy ker- 
chief held at the throat, by a likeness of Samuel set in 
wrought gold — at the clear china and glossy damask. 


SUSAN THUMP NEVER NEGLECTS DUTY. 63 


The little parlor was their breakfast, dining, supper 
and sitting room. Here Susan rocked, sewed and chatted ; 
here Samuel read, wrote and dreamed. So without wait- 
ing for the little maid, paper in hand, she threw wide open 
the door — Susan never did things by halves, — and Meg 
stood without. 

“ Bless your heart, child, what brought you out so 
early .? Come directly in. Tea ain’t what young folks 
should drink, but you look ailing, Meg.” While saying 
this Miss Thump had drawn the girl affectionately into 
the cozy little parlor, sat her down in her own softly-cush- 
ioned chair, and turned out a cup of fragrant tea, which 
none but Miss Thump could make. 

I suppose you’ve been watching all night with some^ 
poor mortal, and tired yourself all out. You must look 
out for yourself as well as others. How is Miss Martha 
Hamper } She complained of a deal of pain in the back, 
the last time I saw her.” 

“ She seems well,” replied Meg, settling back as if 
Mother Susan’s chair was an absorber of all aches and 
pains, whether of head or heart, “ and I am well, too. It is 
only the old question I ponder over, ‘Who am I V You 
know how I used to hear the washing, washing of some- 
thing: I never could tell just what it was, and that made 
it more dreadful to listen to. They said it was imagina- 
tion, but I know it was not. Well, for years I have been 
to the river by day and by night, and heard no more than 
others, the water peaceful or troubled, whether it was a 
calm or a storm ; but for months past the old sound has • 
been coming nearer and nearer, and night before last I 
could not sleep, it seemed to wash to my very feet. ^ I 
knew uncle and Gaff were out, and I felt them' drawing 
something through the water. If I fell asleep I was that 
something, if I was awake I could hear it, see it and feel 
it. Now and then it would stop, and I seemed to be in 
my mother’s arms, and I could have lain there forever, I 
was so happy ; but soon the water would wash her away, 
and leave me with that something. I knew I must run 
away from it, or I could not live ; so I dressed, covered 
myself with my long cloak, and thought I was hurrying 
from it, but was only hurrying to it, for uncle and Gaff 


64 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


had just tied a body, and it must have been that some- 
thing, for I could not bear to look at it, and I could not 
bear to leave it when uncle wanted me to come home. 
She must have been beautiful — not much older than I, 
not poor, and did not have to wonder who she was. She 
is at the dead-house — no one has yet claimed her, or can 
recognize her. If I had the money. Mother Susan, what 
do you think I would do ?” and she looked bright, and 
cheerful even, while answering the inquiring look on 
Susan’s face. “ I would bury her, but not in London — 
no, not in London. I would take her where I was once. 
There was no fog, no smoke there. There was sun on 
the green grass, and shade under the trees ; all was clear 
and clean. There I would bury her, but not here. She 
does not belong here, I know.” Then the shadow fell again 
over her face as she added after a thoughtful pause, “ I 
cannot do it ; I have no money. But, Mother Susan, I 
have come to ask you to go and see her, find out when 
they will take her away, and just before they put the lid 
over her, lay this over her face ; let no one else touch it.” 
And she drew a sriiall box from her pocket, yellowed by 
time and worn by much opening ; out of this she took 
tenderly, lovingly, reverently, a handkerchief of the finest 
web, and wiping her tears with one of coarser fabric, con- 
tinued : “This was my mother’s, and it has been my 
companion in many lonely hours, but I must lay it over 
her. She must not see the rough board they will nail 
over her. All yesterday and last night it has lain with 
some mignonette and the only rosebud my bush had, so 
that it will remind her of the sweet things she must have 
always known, and take away the smell of the water. You 
will do this. Mother Susan, I know.” 

Miss Thump knew that the girl had despondent moods, 
but had never heard her open her heart like this. She 
still held the cup, but half filled, the paper had fallen to 
the floor; and as Meg’s quick eye caught the “Found 
Drowned,” she cried, “ There she is ! Read that.” 

“ Yes, child,” replied Susan quietly, “I was just read- 
ing it as you rapped, and saying to myself, ‘Susan Thump, 
there can be no harm in going to see her ; you might, and 
you might not, do some good.’ So, you see, it was just what 


SUSAN THUMP NE VHP NEGLECTS DUTY, 65 


I wanted to do. But, child, do you know how dangerous 
it is to go to the river in the dark? Don’t do it again. 
Can’t you talk to Martha.?” 

Susan lost all brusqueness for the time being when- 
ever she talked to Meg. The girl, unconsciously to both, 
possessed a charm over the juttings and rough sides of 
Susan’s manner ; they always smoothed down in her pres- 
ence, but did not disappear, for when she was gone they 
came forth to other people, sometimes pretty sharply, and 
sometimes offensively, but never intentionally. Of one 
thing Susan was conscious, however, that she never could 
say, “ Humph !” to Meg, as she certainly did to every 
one else. 

“ No, no,” said the girl, “ I cannot talk to Mother 
Martha. She listens, but she does not understand me. 
No one understands me but uncle — and you she added, 
“ I think you do.” 

Susan made no reply, her throat was full and her heart 
was full ; so she turned out the cold tea, and drew from 
the waiting urn a fresh warm cupful and passed it to 
Meg. The cup was china, with filagree of gilt around 
‘‘To my son,” also in gilt. This was Susan’s gift to 
Samuel when he began to taste tea and coffee, and he 
had never outgrown his joy in drinking therefrom. Mr. 
Thump was suffering from a slight headache that morn- 
ing, for which reason Susan had made tea — but even that 
he could not drink, so his cup stood waiting — Meg, who 
drank and wished she 'could drink forever. 

“ Why, child,” said Susan, as she turned back with 
cream and sugar, “ you don’t drink tea clear ; you like it 
well seasoned. You are not yourself; have another cup, 
and let me prepare it properly, if you are so worried 
you can’t do it.” 

“ That was delicious. Mother Susan,” replied the girl 
blushing, “ I must like it clear the best, for 1 certainly 
thought it just right.” 

Perhaps you do not know, simple-hearted Meg, what 
sweetened, what flavored the tea, but drink the clear 
strong beverage from the cup that Gaff daily uses, and, 
then ask yourself if it is “just right.” 

“ This is what you always like when you don’t feel 


66 - 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


well,” said Susan, sipping and stirring and creaming an- 
other cup, or rather more tea in the same cup. Here’s a 
roll — no, take a bun. I bought those for Samuel, but 
not feeling well, he could not eat.” 

“You are good to everybody. Mother Susan, and ” — 
Meg stopped suddenly, for she had nearly called' forth a 
“ Humph,” suppressed though it was. Susan Thump did 
not like to be praised, and if anyone, not knowing her, 
persisted in it, she tossed her head, shot forth the sharp an- 
gles till she was like a grater, and the more one smoothed 
the more one got grated. She only did her duty, and if 
other people did the same the world would know less 
trouble, — “ and I know will be glad to do her a kindness,” 
added the girl. 

With this skilful way of praising, Susan was not of- 
fended, and said, “ I had better be going to see what time 
she will be taken away.” 

“ If they will not tell you, maybe you can slip it in 
her hand. If she could only throw it over her face 
herself,” said Meg. 

“ Don’t worry ; bear in mind Susan Thump has got 
this handkerchief, and she has closed many eyes, covered 
many faces” — and she might have added, without self- 
praise, “ prayed sincerely and opened the closed way for 
many a weary, darkened soul as it tapped timidly at the 
portal that leadeth beyond — and crossed many hands.” 
Saying this, she peered significantly into a pyramid of 
blooming plants, and selected a cluker of white heliotrope, 
a tiny rosebud, a half-blown rose and a stem of small 
green leaves. “That’s enough; things should be ac- 
cording to circumstances. It is vulgar to overdo. I 
always tell them the simpler the better ; just enough to 
show there’s somebody cares for them.” 

The last she said more to herself, showing clearly that 
Susan Thump was at home once more in arranging 
funeral matters, if it were over the unknown and un- 
claimed, whose cortege might be the gaping crowd, whose 
coffin the rough box, whose resting place the “ Potter’s 
Field.” 

She laid aside her cup, put on her bonnet neatly 
trimmed with the shiniest of satin, threw over her shoul- 


SUSAN THUMP NEVER NEGLECTS DUTY. 6/ 


ders a square of the finest merino bound with black silk, 
and bidding Meg await her return, turned toward the 
Wilton — and as she passed the corner, said to herself, 
“If they ain’t civil enough to tell me how long they’ll 
keep her, I can just stay and see for myself ; they can’t 
frighten Susan Thump.’’ 

“ Did you speak to me, ma’m .? ” said a meek voice at 
her side. 

“ Humph ! there’s your dog again. What did you 
say ?’’ 

“ I asked if you spoke to me.” 

“ No, nor to your dog. I haven’t anything against you, 
but I don’t like your dog,’’ and she dropped a shilling in 
his hand, passed on a few steps, then turned back and"" 
said, “ I wish you could see ; but if you could you wouldn’t 
be here, so I needn’t waste time over you.” 

“ I should be glad to be of use to somebody,” re- 
marked the man so sadly that Miss Thump was sorry 
she had spoken so sharp, “ Sometimes my dog is of 
great assistance to people. Are you not. Rover ?” 

“Well, maybe you think so, but I’d like to see a dog 
help me,” was the reply ; and she looked half-scornfully, 
half-timidly, while Rover, who seemed to understand her 
contempt for all his kind and himself in particular, sat 
down unconcernedly, and looked at nothing and nobody 
in particular. 

“ Good Rover,” said the man, “ has done for me what 
no other would. I find, ma’m, he knows more than most, 
ser.ves better than many, and never tells what he ought 
not to.” 

“ But can he tell what he ought to,” said Miss Thump, 
her curiosity aroused at the prospect of finding out some- 
thing about this man, and a desire to see what remarkable 
talents or instinct the dog might possess. The master of 
the dog was quite as'desirous of cultivating her acquaint- 
ance, so said, “Just try him, ma’m. You think I could help 
you if I could see. Let Rover take my place, he will do 
as well, even better.” 

“ But I don’t know as I’ll need him. If he goes you’ll 
have to go too. I wouldn’t have a dog following me 
through the streets.” 


68 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


And Susan, Rover, and his master looked toward the 
Morgue. 


CHAPTER XI. 

CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 

.Mr. Wallace and his dog walked wearily back to 
Jericho. The master because he was thoughtful, and 
sometimes doubtful, the dog because he was tired and had 
found Dearie’s company anything but cheerful to a dog of 
his active habits. Suddenly he raised his head, forgot he 
was tired, looked at his master as if he would say, “ Let 
us listen, there is some one else abroad. The way is lonely 
just here, but I am with you, do not fear.” 

The master detected distant footsteps, but. not so soon 
as the dog. They came nearer and nearer. There were 
few houses whose inmates would give protection if he 
should be molested, for the neighborhood was a bad one, 
so he stepped, the dog following, into the shadow of a 
dwelling whose crumbling walls andv^tumbling timbers 
showed that it was no longer habitable. The footsteps 
were now so near that the voices which accompanied 
them could be distinguished. 

“ Might as well sit down here — nothing but rats and 
bats — can’t tell it again if they hear it,” said one of the 
voices. 

“ But I haven’t got much to say ; and what I have got, 
I don’t care if they do tell,” said the other voice. “ You 
know what I want, and you know what I must have. 
That old fellow you call uncle, I can’t talk to ; he’s too 
oily in his tongue, as well as his skin. I want to know 
now just what you’re agoin’ to do, and I want it done. 
I’ve fooled long enough.” 

“ Just take a little — always makes business slip easy — 
best brand — present from particular friend — never drinks 
any but own importations,” and the owner of the first 
voice drew from his pocket a small flask, and turning 
some of its contents into its cap, handed it to the other. 


CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 


69 


“ Never offer it where it can’t be appreciated ; know if 
there is a man who can tell what’s what, it’s Mr. Barley.” 
Mr. Barley drank it eagerly, and did not stop till the sec- 
ond and the third time the cap had been filled ; and as 
the cap to the flask was of generous size, and the amount 
he imbibed was enough for several Mr. Barleys, it was 
not passing strange that he should soon be in the best of 
humor with himself and all the world. 

The owner of the first voice partook sparingly, and 
consequently his humor, which was always of the best 
when the world saw him, remained unchanged. He evi- 
dently knew just when Mr. Barley would be at his hap- 
piest and most accommodating stage, for he waited and 
watched a few moments, and then said, “ Family matters, 
Mr. Barley.” 

“ Eh ! ” replied Mr. Barley, as if a little hard of hear- 
ing and a little slow at understanding. 

“ Family matters,” said the other, as if announcing his 
subject before an interested audience. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Barley, as if the light was glimmering 
faintly — “ yes — understand — text, eh } you always take 
a text. Long, eh 

“Well, yes, a little longer than text — but will make it 
short as possible.” 

“ Ready, then and Barley straightened himself up 
and opened his eyes, as far as a man could who had been 
all the evening drinking himself cross, and now had taken 
just enough more to be happy and then stupid. 

The first speaker announced his subject again, cleared 
his throat, and eyeing the other closely, began, “ Family 
secret — never betray confidence ?” 

Barley tried to raise his right hand as if to take an oath 
of secrecy, bowed his head, and did not readily raise it. 

“ Big estate.” 

“ How big ?” inquired Barley, as if he expected its 
dimensions to be indicated with a measure. ^ 

“Very big.” _ ' - 

“ Ah !” said Barley, settling down a little at a time. 

“Yes,” continued the first voice, “very big, owner 
old long ago ; very old now, you know.” 

“ Of course,” replied Barley, “very well too, maybe.” 


70 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


His shrewdness quite startled the other, and he looked 
sharply for other signs of shrewdness or more stupidity ; 
whichever came would govern his next accordingly. But 
nothing came, and, concluding that it was a remark made 
more involuntarily than understandingly, he ventured 
again : “ Family matters — owner left — can’t be found — 
must be dead — couldn’t be alive — too old.” 

“ How old V' asked Barley, settling down more and 
more. As this latter was a good sign the other continued, 
without heeding the question, “ Nobody there — bats, 
moles, owls maybe — mould inside — weeds outside — 
money inside, plenty. Heirs all dead but two — uncle’s one 
— a young lady’s two — can’t help getting it — crown gets 
it in one year, so they must get it before. Family secret, 
Mr. Barley, but you must know. Now uncle’s despon- 
dent — getting old you know.” 

“And oily, too,” suggested Mr. Barley. 

“ Freak of nature,” pursued the other, again startled 
by his shrewdness, and determined not to be offended at 
this allusion to his uncle’s infirmity, went on, “ Looks on 
the dark side — too honest to say he’ll pay till he gets 
money in hand. That, Mr. Barley, is why he says can’t 
pay now — family secret — don’t betray — sign this.” 

Mr. Barley was settling faster all the time, and at the 
last sentence stopped settling, but could do no more. He 
tried to rise, as if he had a faint idea that he was about to 
make a worse fool of himself if he signed than he had 
done when he drank, so said, “ Can’t do it — two heirs — 
uncle one — Barley two.” 

“ No, not exactly. Barley, but might be, if you could 
make t’other heir Mrs. Barley.” 

“ G-oo-d, g-oo-d, M-r-s. B-a-r-l-e-y, m-o-u-l-d needs 
m-o-n-e-y plenty, p-l-e-n-t-y, w-h-a-t, m-o-u-l-d ? W-h-r-e’s 
M-is-sis B-a-r-l-e-y The words grew longer and the 
settling began again. 

“ Happy thought that, congratulate you — smell cake 
and wine now — sign this and get introduction to-morrow 
night. No. 40 Chapel Street — eight o’clock. Don’t know 
she’s worth a dollar — love her for herself — that’s the 
way to catch ’em — sign this,” and he held the man’s hand 
while he wrote “ Tom Barley ” by the glimmer of a short 


CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 


71 


waxen taper he lighted and held so that Wallace looked 
fairly into the face of one whom he had hunted London 
over to meet — the face of Ralph Speeder, whom the Lit- 
tle Man had found at No. 36 Knickknack Street; and as 
it was certain he had left there, and uncertain just where 
he had gone, Mr. Wallace was not long in deciding to 
follow him. 

Barley’s exertion in signing had been too great for 
him, and he settled into a heap like a limp rag, murmur- 
ing — “ M-o-u-l-d m-o-n-e-y.” 

The other rolled him out of the way of any passer by, 
and as he did so, Mr. Wallace saw his fingers deftly slipped 
into Barley’s pocket, then into his own ; just what they 
carried he could not tell. 

“ Chance has not done this,” he said to himself, as he 
quietly followed Ralph Speeder’s retreat. He knew if he 
lost his track the dog would find it, so he leisurely and 
still more thoughtfully walked on. The young man was 
evidently suspicious and cautious, even when he thought 
no one was abroad to see him, for he took a circuitous 
route — now dodging into an obscure street, and hurriedly 
emerging into a larger and lighter — then slowly and lei- 
surely walking, as if returning from some fair visitant, and 
like an honest man seeking home. 

At last he made a plunge into a poorly lighted, poorly 
built and poorly inhabited street, called Poorly’s Resort — 
at least such was to be seen on the sign of the low tavern 
which headed the court. The host. Poorly, could not 
have selected in all London a more appropriate residence ; 
to be sure he might have found hundreds as good, but 
none better suited in all respects. After he had plunged 
in, the man crept back, looked up and down — but saw no 
one ; Mr. Wallace and the dog were in the shadow of a 
building whose projections afforded them protection. 

Again he was lost, again the pursuers emerged and 
walked stealthily on. He looked into a small window, 
tapped gently thrice, waited a moment, tapped twice, an- 
other moment, and tapped once. At this a figure within 
moved, sidled to the door, and opened it carefully. Ralph 
stepped in without a word ; the door was shut, and Mr. 
Wallace as carefully drew near the window. He looked 


72 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


and listened ; he waited and watched, sometimes with 
bated breath, and sometimes breathing so heavily from 
stifled emotion that he pressed his hand over his mouth, 
lest he might be heard within. He looked and saw the 
man who had admitted Ralph ; and though he had tracked 
him for years, he had not looked upon his face since the 
man was younger in years, more comely in features, 
more rich in attire, more respected by others because 
more respected by himself, more innocent in deed, but 
none the less guilty in heart, only waiting for time to 
make him what he now was. And time had done well his 
wofk; he had written miser, craven, coward,* and cunning 
worker. All these Mr. Wallace read, and in the reading 
was not surprised. The bud and the flower he had 
known gave promise of just the fruit they had become. 

He listened and heard, “ You’ve been at your old 
tricks ; yes, you have. Don’t shake your head, I met 
Barley. You don’t know the pounds, shillings and pence 
— I do. I saw the string he holds you for. Now keep 
on, just keep on, and when you get your ‘ lawful inher- 
itance,’ ha ! that’s good, lawful, legal, rightful. When 
you get it, I say, there will be so many fingers that can 
grasp over it, that you can count what’s left now as well 
as by and by.” 

“A man can’t — ” 

“Yes, he can too. Just keep on, but don’t ask me 
to help you out. I’ve played nephew to a rich uncle 
over the sea till I fleeced them all, and sold what be- 
longed to the haberdasher to a picker from a second- 
hand shop. That can’t last always. You said, ‘ Let’s be 
economical till we get it.’ Fifty pounds you lost last 
night, seventy pounds to-night. How much to-morrow 
night ! eh ? — I’ve got brass, I know, I can play gent of 
leisure, take in the fool’s money, but can’t manage Barley 
much longer. Says he’ll take a little — say twenty pounds 
a month.” 

“ Where am I to raise that ?” said the uncle, with a 
frightened look, and an expression which said, “ I have all 
I can bear now.” “ If \ could get it, I would not ask 
Barley to lend me,” he added in a whining tone. 

“ Ha ! that’s something you’ve always kept from me. 


CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 


73 


my most honored uncle, but don’t I suspect? I think 
so. Where you keep it, I don’t know, but you’ve got 
some. Now see here, when I sold off in Knickknack 
Street, and barely saved myself from being sold off, who 
do you think bought my second-hand stuff?” and the 
nephew watched the effect with delight. He had a vic- 
tim, an uncle in wickedness and deceit, but no tie by blood 
held them. He had, when younger, done his bidding, 
sometimes willingly and sometimes unwillingly, according 
to what had been bidden. He had played, from child- 
hood, whatever part it pleased the man, according to the 
plot and plan he was developing. He had grown so rap- 
idly in deceit that he had long laid miniature traps into 
which his master had fallen, and he had netted, always 
shillings sometimes pounds. But his aims were increas- 
ing as years and wants increased. He knew there was a 
fund, notwithstanding the uncle — we will call him so — 
protested he lived upon a future inheritance. Barley had 
signed off all claim, or rather all attempts to claim, for 
one year. If he rebelled against the mode of signing how 
could he prove the indebtedness ? Ralph had slipped the 
notes and accounts from his pocket, and this little parcel 
was what Mr. Wallace had seen transferred so deftly — 
enough so, he thought, for one who had not engaged in 
this mode of seizure for the first time. “Who do you 
think ? Did you say ? ah ! beg pardon. Thought you 
recognized,” he continued in a taunting tone. 

The glands began to work, the oil oozed, not impercep- 
tibly, but in great drops ; the fingers grew tired, the hand- 
kerchief grew sticky, the hands were nervously clasped 
and unclasped ; the man said in a low tone he meant for 
a don’t-care one, but which was illy concealed, “ No one 
who can harm me now. I’m too near it. She’s come, 
and she can’t show her papers. One is enough, I ain’t 
doing her a wrong, she won’t be poor.” Thus he tried to 
assure himself, yet there was still a shadow on his track ; 
it may have been the shadow of his pursuers, it may 
have been the shadow of misdeeds, or it may have been 
an invisible, impalpable shadow, whose strength lies in its 
mysterious comings and goings. 

“ You’re off the subject, good uncle,” continued the 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


7A 

youth with a leer. “ Let me tell you who I mean, it will 
sound good to you — sweet music — now listen,” and he 
bent over and whispered, “ Isaac Harold.” 

The uncle started, looked fixedly at the wall, dingy 
with smoke and time, and out of it he seemed to see 
coming one of the shadows; and which ? “I heard you, 
but there is something I am more afraid of than Isaac 
Harold. There used to be one, but now there are two,” 
and he covered his face, and shook all over till he 
shook the very chair. His skin was hot and parched. 
The glands could show the workings of a troubled con- 
science rather than the workings of a wicked brain, so they 
had refused to labor, and fever suddenly followed. He 
parted his long fingers and looked. The shadow must 
have been becoming substance, for he quickly closed 
them and crouched down : his lips parted, but no sound 
came forth, only a hot breath which seemed to fill the 
small room. At last his hand fell as if thrown from his 
face by another ; he raised it, again it fell. 

The fever was followed by a chill, and the chill left 
him as one frozen, yet seeing the something between him- 
self and the wall. He seemed trying to close his eyes to 
it, but the lids refused to move, the muscles were bound. 
Thus he sat, and thus he had sat before, though always 
alone. The frozen look melted into horror, the horror 
into despair, and from despair he awoke as from a fright- 
ful dream. He looked about timidly, rubbed his eyes, 
looked with more assurance when he saw no one but 
Ralph in the room, passed his hand over his knotty fore- 
head, whispered as he pointed to the wall — “ There’s two 
now — there used to be but one.” At the sound of his voice, 
even feeble as it was, he began to shake again and cover- 
ing his eyes whined, “ They come out of the wall. How 
long will they keep coming 1 I begged the other one to 
go, and she did. I haven’t seen her for a long time till 
last night, and then she brought another. I’ll leave the 
room ; but it won’t do any good — she’d follow me.” And 
he looked again as if some irresistible impulse compelled 
him. “ They’re stepping off — I see, I hear, oh ! I hear 
it,” and he pressed his fingers to his ears, but shook his 
head as if it were useless. 


CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 


75 


. And it is useless, oh man of sinful plotting ! The 
sound thou hearest is not of the external — it is the echo 
of wicked deeds ; and thus will they echo and re-echo 
throughout eternity till thou hast suffered as thou hast 
made others suffer, till thou hast burned the dross from 
thy soul by such penance as no physical pain can give. 
There is good in thy soul — none was ever created with- 
out. It may be long ages before it can find light through 
so much that is evil within, but it will make itself mani- 
fest, though thy soul will show scars, many and deep, in 
the battle of right against wrong. 

Ralph stared at the mah, his master, as if he doubted 
his own senses ; at first he thought of sudden and fatal 
attacks that he had heard of, caused by undue excite- 
ment. But when he began to rave, it seeme^ to faintly 
dawn upon him that there was cause for these, not idle, 
fancies — that the man had been years in preparing the 
warp which conscience could, in a few moments, fill in 
with the woof of his own making also. He was dulled to 
all tenderness or pity : he was selfish, sordid, avaricious, 
and how could he be anything besides ? Heart, soul and 
brain had been fed with nothing else. So, thinking to 
make light of it, he said, 

“You’re playing off, old man, and don’t want to talk 
about Isaac Harold. Did you hear me tell you 

“Yes,” said the other, “and why didn’t you tell me 
before ?” 

“ I don’t tell all I know, just keep that in mind,” and 
he bent down and whispered something in his ear. 

The man started as if a new thunderbolt were hurled 
at him, but regained himself in some measure before he 
answered, “Yes, I know , they go together, but I am too 
near it. They can’t keep me from it now. I shall soon 
be all right. Time is short.” 

“Yes,” said a voice from without, “ time is short, but 
eternity is long. The lesson you might have read from 
the wall has had no effect. Greed has swallowed you in 
truth.” But the voice was not heard, nor the owner of it, 
for he and his dog stepped into a little by-way, and Ralph, 
thinking it best to leave before another attack, said, 
“ Remember, twenty pounds. I’ll see you to-morrow. 


76 


THUMP^S CLIENT. 


I’ve promised Barley,” and passed by them on his way to 
finish the night with companions like himself. 

Nature had not done her worst, and most decidedly 
she had not done her best, in the putting together of 
Ralph Speeder’s moral composition. Yet, had he fallen 
beneath the pruning hook, guided by a wise parental 
hand, he might have made an average man — but never 
could he, by soil however fertile, by showers however 
gentle, and sun however life-giving, have been made 
in this life a man of loving impulses, of generous actions 
or conscientious feelings : he lacked the essentials for 
these spontaneous outgrowths. But he fell by force of 
circumstances into the hands of Marplot, and the worst 
side of his nature developed as rapidly as example, 
precept, and encouragement could make it. He had 
followed his uncle, father, or friend, whichever it was 
deemed best to consider him, sometimes upon ample 
allowance, sometimes upon allowance not ample, but of 
late it had grown too small entirely for the needs of 
London life, London jollity and London resorts. When 
Isaac Harold found him he had, a little time before, 
been successful in a game of draw, and had fleeced 
some unsuspecting ruralists out of a goodly sum, so 
goodly, that he thought to cut loose from his master 
and teacher, thinking he had well enough learned the 
way of evil to look out for himself. This he had con- 
templated upon the secret advice of Tom Barley, who, 
if the truth were known, had hoped to cut loose too. 
But from a sterner hand than Marplot’s, from a keener 
eye, from a quicker brain than Ralph’s, sought he to flee. 
He had the hard sense, however, not to venture, not to 
even intimate that he harbored a thought of the venture, 
till he saw how matters would turn with that worthy. 
He had advanced for Marplot, and had taken what he 
began to deem poor security — a prospective fortune; 
but both the advancing and the security he kept from 
the knowledge of the one he hoped to leave. It was 
his business to advance, but upon something which 
could be seen and handled, not such a gauzy thing as a 
prospect ; and knowing he would be, not only harshly 
criticised, but roughly shaken, he, for once held his 


CHANCE HAS NOT DONE THIS. 

tongue and kept sober, for in keeping sober alone lay his 
security. 

Speeder rented in Knickknack Street, sported with 
the swells thereof, ran up bills which soon ran him down 
and back to his old quarters : he aped the manners of 
those no better than himself, but of somewhat better 
breeding. Had he been clever, he would have held his 
place among them, and have fleeced one day and been 
fleeced the next, as they did, and were, sometimes with 
pounds by the thousands, and sometimes only with shil- 
lings that could be tallied on the fingers; but the streak 
of luck ruined him, that is, ruined him for that life. Had 
he worked himself into it he might have been successful, 
but he leaped into it, and was therefore dazed by the sud- 
den plenty. 

He learned but one thing, to talk in a choppy man- 
ner, and that we find him practicing when he interviewed 
Isaac Harold at the instance of the charwoman of the 
house, who had often summoned the gatherer for similarly 
situated lodgers, but none, she thought, who had run so 
swift a race as this one. We say he learned but this one 
thing — so when he raised enough to take him to cheap 
lodgings, he took to the lower grade of vice without hav- 
ing learned any of the tricks and arts of the higher. Mr. 
Barley watched his rise and fall, and was himself content. 
But not so with Ralph, the taste of life in Knickknack 
Street had spoiled him for that of Poorly's Resort, and 
what he had would not long suffice ; so he found, upon a 
little thinking, that an income might be obtained from the 
protector of his childhood and the teacher of his youth. 

Marplot, he was certain, had money hidden some- 
where — he owed Tom Barley, for play he would now and 
then, although not nearly so much as he had the name of, 
for by pleading debts of honor he could, or had ofttimes 
obtained help to pay off, and thus added to the weight 
and value of what he called the ‘‘lookouts for old age." 
He had kept Tom at bay by the promise of the slice of 
the coming fortune, but that advancer of loans was be- 
ginning to press, and press the more eagerly, because hop- 
ing each day might bring the fortune. He had kept sober, 
lest as we said, if he lost control of his wits, he would lose 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


78 

control of his tongue, and the one he so dreaded might 
learn to what extent he had let the pounds out with no 
security but a prospective one. 

Thus things stood on the night when Mr. Wallace and 
the dog stepped into the shadow of the old house. 


CHAPTER XII. 

OF ROVER AND HIS MASTER, JOE AND ISAAC. 

“ Out of respect to Great Heart the parent does not 
mix method with time, dearie, so this morning when he 
takes the new lodger to Boggs he leaves the sack at home.” 

The Little Man laid the gatherings he had been as- 
sorting carefully away, folded the sack, deposited it in the 
drawer of the nondescript piece of furniture, put every- 
thing in complete order, fed the starling with some crumbs 
that Mr. Wallace had left for her, and having “straight- 
ened ” himself, threw his cloak over his shoulders, drew 
a black pyramidal hat on his head, nodded to Dearie, 
opened the door, but turned back before he had crossed 
the threshold and muttered to himself, “ How I feel this 
morning ! Curse him ! curse him ! I can always tell when 
he has done some of his bad deeds. I guess they whisper 
it to me, only I don’t hear it plain, and so they put it in 
my mind. I shall hear of him soon, or else what he has 
done. I shall just go back and put this big pin into him,” 
and he drew from his cloak a large brass pin that held it 
together at the throat, and plunged it again and again into 
an old pin-cushion. “ I wish I knew you could feel it. 
Ha ! ha ! I said I’d make gatherings of needles and pins 
— just look at that !” and he held up for the cushion’s in- 
spection a paper on which there were two or three rows of 
needles. “ Don’t they shine ? ain’t they sharp .? D’ye see 
them, eh? ‘Just wait till I hear of him, and you shall feel 
every one. I won’t do it till after the day’s gathering and 
I have time to stab you slowly. Ha ! ha ! they’re sharp, 


■ .ROVER AND HIS MASTER. 


79 


and they can pierce ! He has hurt so many, and he is 
going to hurt somebody again, or else he has done it, f/iey 
don’t tell me which. Let me stab you once more, and 
then I’ll take the pin with me, so that you’ll know I’ll use 
it when I come home and take off my cloak.” 

This time he almost sank the head into the cushion, 
so eager wasTie to make good his promise. 

“ That will do. Ha ! ha ! the devil can’t have him yet.” 
Chattering and grinning he drew out the pin, fastened 
his cloak with it, and hurried out of Blue Bottle Court 
into the larger and busier streets, where, when not lost in 
the bustle and crowd, he was lost in the fog ; so we shall 
hot follow, but meet him as he nears the corner of the/ 
Wilton and Lunley Lane — and as he did this he heard a 
scraping on the pavement as of one groping with a stick. 
He looked around but saw no one ; he looked down and 
saw a dog ; attached to the dog was a collar, attached to 
the collar was a string, attached to the string was a man. 

The dog, the master, and Isaac Harold were well 
trained. Neither recognized the other, yet the dog once 
so far forgot himself that his tail wagged about half a 
wag, and his feet were light and springy, as if he would 
like to leap on somebody’s shoulders ; but some dogs are 
more social than others, and it may have been but a natu- 
ral delight at meeting some one else abroad ; so the wag 
and the spring may have been half imaginary. 

“Good morning, friend,” said Isaac, as he waited for 
the man to solicit alms. Rover now felt himself at lib- 
erty-to wag, but not as a friend, only as a dog who was 
ever on the alert for his master’s welfare, and ready to 
look thanks for the shillings and pence that might be 
dropped into the outstretched hand. 

“ Good — hark, friend,” said the blind man, stopping 
short as he began to return the Little Man’s salutation, 
“hark, Rover.” He strained his eyes as if he would and 
could see through the ugly green glasses he wore ; he 
clenched his fist as if ready for a blow at some unseen 
foe ; the veins in his neck and forehead swelled, his 
breath came rapidly and convulsively. The Little Man 
heard what the blind man heard, for he was about to say 
“ Listen,” when the latter said “ Hark.” His thin legs 


8o 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


seemed to draw up as if in danger of spasms, he pulled 
his peaked hat tightly down over his head, caught hold of 
the brass pin at his throat, as if to make this his weapon 
of defence, and he listened. Rover’s every hair stood up, 
every tooth, every claw, and every muscle showed aggres- 
sion. His low growl the blind man hushed, and in 
silence they waited. Shambling, sidling,* sneaking along 
came Marplot, who evidently felt himself nearing an abyss, 
for he took off his hat, yet the morning was cool, almost 
cold, took out his handkerchief, and wiped rapidly, but 
the glands outworked him, and looking about in a fright- 
ened way, alarmed either at the abyss or at the unusual 
labor of the glands, turned, not suddenly — for he could do 
nothing suddenly — and went from, not by, -the corner of 
the Wilton and the Lunley. The blind man for the mo- 
ment lost control of himself, and might have sprung for- 
ward in the direction whence he felt, as well as heard, 
Marplot coming ; but the Little Man said in tremulous 
tones and suppressed emotion, “Time is not-up, friend. 
We are not in a hurry. We work by method, and it takes 
time.” 

“ You are right,” replied the blind man, opening his 
clenched fist : the nails of his fingers were crimson, so 
deeply had each left the imprint on the palms. 

“ I seldom lose myself, but — ” and thinking of what 
Mr. Wallace, for they were old friends, had heard the night 
before, indignation choked his words. “ Do you know 
the man who came near ?” 

“ I have met him,” replied Isaac Harold, “ when I 
didn’t want to, and when I was in a hurry to get away 
from him, but I shall meet him again when I do want to 
and shall have plenty of time,” and while saying this he 
tugged at the brass pin. “ Let him go, he’s not ready for 
me yet, nor the devil either. He can’t have him till I get 
through with him.” 

The blind man now chided himself for such a dis- 
play of passion, for it was impossible to tell how many of 
the Lunleys were peeping through half-closed blinds, or 
who else might have seen him. He soothed the dog, who 
soon cast down head and tail, as if he too saw how fool- 
ish he had been to let temper get such control of hair, 


ROVER AND HIS MASTER. 


8i 


teeth, and claws. They were not long in assuming their 
respective roles., for footsteps were again approaching, but 
they were honest, manly footsteps, from which one had 
naught to fear ; they cleared the ground as if their owner 
was not ashamed of his comings and goings. 

The mendicant looked pleased, Rover looked know- 
ing, and the Little Man looked expectant. 

The steps came nearer and nearer, till Joe looked 
inquiringly about. Isaac recognized him from the de- 
scription Mr. Wallace had given him, and advancing, said, 
“ You are Joe, I am Isaac Harold. You are to go to Mis- 
tress Boggs, I am to take you there. You are to watch, 
I am to gather. You are seeking business, fame, and for- 
tune; I am seeking justice, and through justice revenge. 
This is the blind man who will tell you by day what Great 
Heart would tell you by night. There’s so much to do 
and so little time to do it, that Great Heart is busy all 
day. He leaves his dog with this man ; so you see what 
you can’t tell him just slip into Rover’s mouth, you know 
he’ll never lose it.” 

As the Little Man chattered this, he looked Joe from 
head to toe, with his head on one side, then on the other, 
very much as if he were deciding upon the quality and 
price of a gathering. Finally he said, Yes, you will do ; 
yes, they tell me you will do.” 

“ I shall try to do,” replied Joe, “ so long as it is hon- 
est to do.” 

“ You’ll never say ‘ Time’s up,’ because it isn’t honest,” 
said Isaac, as if a little hurt that such a suspicion should 
lurk in Joe’s mind. “Great Heart wouldn’t be in it, if 
it wasn’t honest, and you never heard that Isaac Harold 
was dishonest. It is his honesty that makes him a poor 
gatherer,” and he adjusted his peaked hat with his hand, 
while the cuff of his jockey’s coat swept off a tear as it 
passed up. Some tender seal was raised, and the spring 
beneath it so troubled that it sent forth one drop. But 
the seal was instantly closed, yet the tear had not es- 
caped the eye of Joe — it dropped from the cup into his 
heart. 

It told him of a man of truth and honor, who had 
seen his dearest hopes destroyed, who had waited for 


82 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


time and justice to bring revenge, who was odd and per- 
haps whimsical, but whose oddities had been born of a 
good-humor which had kept him from sinking in the 
waves of trouble that had swept about him, but would 
not let them wash over him. 

Joe was sorry for having, in any way, hurt the Little 
Man, so he frankly, heartily extended his hand and said, 
“ When you know me better, you will know I meant no 
harm. We are to share the business now, the fame and 
fortune by and by. I am ready to go to Mistress Boggs.'’ 

“ And she is ready to see you, or rather your shillings,” 
said the Little Man as he let go of Joe’s hand after a 
cordial shake. “ She is sharp. Mistress Boggs is, and that 
you will soon find out. Speak a good word to poor Boggs 
whenever you can, but never for him, that would put 
more ‘ cats in the area,’ in fact they would never get 
out. How Boggs must hate cats this last he said to 
himself, for Joe turned to the master of the dog. 

“Good morning, sir,” said he, “I may, and hope I 
shall come often to your corner as bearer of tidings of 
progress in the cause. I know your dog now, and shall 
you too, soon. Have you hurt your hand t Did you 
fall ?” 

“ No, good friend,” replied the blind man, “ one passed 
by or near who will bear a close lookout on him, to-day, 
to-morrow, and many days, the sneak, the coward.” 

“ Yes, yes,” interrupted Joe, “ I know him. Mr. Wal- 
lace gave me such good descriptions of all, that I should 
know them. But I must leave you, sir ; good day.” 

“ Good day, good day,” replied the beggar, and he was 
left alone with the dog. 

All this had escaped the vigilant eye of Miss Thump, 
on account of Samuel’s headache, which occupied her, 
while Isaac was nearing the Lane, in coaxing it to leave 
with sundry applications ; and while he was turning toward 
Cross-Cut Lane, she was likewise applying restoratives, 
sympathy and kindness to Meg’s heartache. 

The blind man had not fully recovered his mental 
equipoise, and so was glad to follow Miss Thump on her 
way to the Morgue. 

“ Now we are going to Mistress Boggs, and must be 


ROVER AND HIS MASTER. 


H 


careful just how we go,” said Isaac, in a confidential way 
to Joe, as he took his arm to turn him off the Wilton after 
they had gone a short distance. 

Joe looked a little surprised, and asked what differ- 
ence it made so they reached the home of that lady. 

“You don’t understand me,” said the Little Man, “I 
mean just how we approach her. You know if you 
smooth a cat the way the fur goes she will purr, but start 
the wrong way and she’ll strike you. It all depends upon 
the start. Now you won’t always find the fur in the same 
direction with Mistress Boggs, you must always, stand off 
a little and look. Let somebody else begin to smooth 
and if she shows her claws, you smooth the other way. 
I sometimes get scratched a little myself, but it is always 
when I treat Boggs as if it were Boggs and wife. Now 
remember, it is Boggs and husband. 1 am sorry for Boggs 
and you will be too, but it makes the fur wrong to show 
it. Let her see at once that you think him a nobody 
and you’re all right.” 

“Sol must begin by being a little deceitful.?” said 
Joe. 

“ No, not exactly, for poor Hiram Boggs is a nobody, 
and always will be till he can say, ‘ Look after the cats 
yourself, I don’t care if the area’s full.’ But I’m afraid 
he will never say that ; he loses courage every day,” re- 
plied the Little Man shaking his head despondingly. 

They soon reached the shop. The sign Joe read, the 
parrot he heard. The door was unlatched, they pushed 
it open, the bell tingled, Hiram peeped out, disappeared. 
Mistress Boggs did not peep, but entered boldly and 
looked back, as she closed the door that led to the sitting- 
room, as if she were warning somebody or something not 
to follow her. Whoever or whatever it was did not ven- 
ture to disobey her and was heard to move away. 

The lady was never free with her neighbors and did 
not permit them to be free with her, so lest some of them 
might enter and see 'and hear too much, and as the pas- 
sage from the shop to the other door was very narrow, 
she turned without speaking and motioned them into the 
room she had just left. Isaac led the way as they entered. 
Joe noticed there was a stealthy retreat through a door- 


84 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


way on the opposite side of the room. “ It must be poor 
Boggs,” thought he. And it was. Mistress Boggs had not 
noticed the exit, and supposing of course, he must be near, 
said, “ Boggs, there’s a — He’s gone to see about it,” she 
remarked, turning around. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Harold ; I am glad to see you,” 
and she extended a hand, large but not generous, active 
but not cheerful. 

Good morning, ma’m,” returned Mr. Harold. “ I’ve 
brought him, you see — the new lodger, ma’m. This, Mis- 
tress Boggs, is Mr. Joseph.” He hesitated, looked at Joe, 
who suggested, Matsell. 

“Yes, ha! ha ! you see I had forgotten, ma’m — Mr. 
Matsell. Ten shillings per week, in advance, and no 
extras but what will be paid for as extras.” 

“ Good morning, Mr. Matsell,” said Mistress Boggs 
clutching at the imaginary ten shillings in her pocket, eye- 
ing Joe closely, as if he were offered for sale at the shop, 
and smiling a welcome. “ I hope you will be satisfied. We 
are poor, but we try to do right. I was unfortunate, sir, 
in my youth. Hiram Boggs won my innocent heart, and 
I thought of love alone — not of bread and butter. But I 
soon found he lacked ambition, had no aspirations, yet 
he is not a bad man — he don’t know enough for that,” 
she added with spirit. “ So you see, sir, I must keep a 
shop and be poor all my days. You will pity me, sir, 
when you see how I am tried. But I try to be resigned. 
It is my cross, our good Mr. Beerie says, and he is right.” 

Joe sighed and looked so sympathetic that Mistress 
Boggs sighed again, and there was a poor little heart on 
the other side of the closed door that was ever sighing, 
and it was of him Joe was thinking. The Little Man 
did not sigh, for he had not heard the cause for it. He 
was tugging at the brass pin, and thinking of the man 
who had passed near him. 

Lest her feelings might overcome her again, Joe pro- 
posed that he should see his room. They went up a 
flight of clean, but uncovered and narrow stairs, that led 
from the room into a passage-way as bare and narrow, 
and this to a room small, neat, but sparsely furnished. A 
bed, a small table, one chair and a few pegs in the wall 


MISS RA Y'S ANCESTRAL HOME. 85 

for the suspension of his wardrobe completed the outfit 
of Joe’s head-quarters to “business, fame, and fortune.” 

Joe looked out of the only window : it was clear and 
clean, and looked upon No. 40, second floor back, and 
also upon the entrance to the same dwelling, so well did 
Cross-Cut Lane deserve its name. 

“ It is not the accommodations, but the site I pay 
for,” he said to himself, as he counted out the ten shil- 
lings in advance. Mistress Boggs did not sigh, she 
seemed glad that Hiram was what he was, for the money 
was swept into her pocket with an air that said, ” He will 
never know how much it is,” and she left the room. 

Isaac lingered a few moments, then said, “ Time’s up, 
Joe, the gatherings are piling up, 1 am getting in a hurry 
to take them. If you want me, it might be you could 
send Hiram. Always be sly about it, though. Speak to 
him, remember, not for him — Ha ! ha !” he burst forth as 
he pointed out of the window at a pompous little figure in 
shiny cloth and polished boots. “ What fish is that ?” 

Joe looked where he pointed, and answered without 
hesitation “Trout.” 

“ Good ! good ! you will do for the business ; I must 
tell Great Heart. It makes me feel as if I wanted straight- 
ening out. But there’s not room here. I must hurry 
where I can find room. Good by,” and doubled up 
with laughter and the desire to “straighten out,” he and 
his peaked hat darted down the stairway and into the 
street. This was the morning on which Lawyer Trout 
had been announced by Zeke, and this was the morning 
we, unsinnouncedj entered also. 


CHAPTER XIII. , 

MISS RAY WELCOMED TO THE HOME OF HER ANCESTORS. 

A SOFT rustle on the stairway, a small foot in the 
passage, a motion as if a hand were extended to meet the 
door, and Mr. Trout stood face to face with his client. 


86 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


He had prepared himself well for the meeting ; from 
the scant locks that covered his head — or rather that fell 
far short of covering — to the tips of his boots, all was 
neatness, nicety, and without a wrinkle. He arose and 
profoundly bowing advanced, then, as if in some doubt 
for what reason he had advanced, began a retreat till he 
stood again in front of the chair he had so hurriedly 
quitted. His fob-chain — who ever saw a portly gentle- 
man without a fob-chain } — luckily ended in an enormous 
seal, and this he firmly grasped with one hand, placed 
the other behind him, and stiffening his knees, bowed 
again. 

“ This is Miss Ray, I presume. Ah, yes, quite cer- 
tain of it. Most happy to welcome you to the home of 
your ancestors.” Here came a painful pause, for he 
opened his mouth as if he would say more — and Miss 
Ray seeing this waited before replying. 

The truth was Mr. Trout could face judge, jury, 
defendant, plaintiff and a score of fellow-counsellors, with 
a crowd of witnesses in the background, and never feel 
abashed or lost for a word either in a speech prepared 
or impromptu ; but to face the brightest pair of eyes, 
fairest complexion, rosiest cheeks, and lithest form that 
ever returned to the “ home of their ancestors,” was more 
than he had the power to keep self-possession under, 
and the remainder of the address of welcome he had so 
carefully worded and so many times conned on his way 
from the office in Lunley Lane to the residence of Mrs. 
Mutter, No. 40 Chapel Street, was lost to himself, for he 
could never again think of it, so completely had those 
bright eyes winked it out of existence — lost to Miss Ray 
and lost to the world. The last, we fear, has sustained 
the greatest loss, for we think he had intended some allu- 
sion to the Young Republic that had been her home since 
.she could remember, and before too ; and from so legal 
and practical a mind as that of S. S. Trout, it seemed a 
great pity that his ideas upon that great and growing 
country, however trivial they might be, should not have 
been “ made a note of.” 

Miss Ray, with the instinct of her sex, saw his em- 
barrassment, and came instantly to the rescue. “ I am 


MISS RA Y\S ANCESTRAL HOME. 


87 


indebted to you, Mr. Trout, for having ascertained my 
ancestors as well as their home,” she said, laughing so 
merrily that Mr. Trout, though much surprised, laughed 
.too — and after laughing found it more difficult than ever 
to speak, so not knowing what else to do, laughed again. 
Miss Ray, not seeing a similar effort called for on her 
part, said quietly, “1 was much astonished at the re- 
ceipt of your letter, though I need not add, agreeably 
so.” 

The lawyer cleared his throat, released his fob, unbent 
his knees, and as Miss Ray had seated herself, he made 
himself alike more comfortable. The sinister look was 
creeping back, the eyes were beginning to twinkle slyly, 
the smile was becoming bland and meaningless as a smile, 
in short, the legal was veiling the social, the lawyer the 
man. “ Ahem,” and he seemed making ready to quiz, when 
he caught again the bright eyes gazing curiously, merrily 
at him, and they brought him back to the man again. He 
had been little among the fair sex, except as an adviser 
for some woful creature behind a rusty crape veil — but 
none the less to be pitied and helped because the crape 
was rusty ; or some sharp-visaged maiden of years, per- 
haps near his own, seeking redress from the devices of 
ill-disposed relatives, — and such, heretofore, had been his 
clients. But here came a young girl, winsome and in- 
nocent, and, above all, heiress to golden coffers. What 
wonder that the lawyer and the man were sadly con- 
fused.^ 

“ And so you had no inkling in all these years of die 
good fortune in store for you.?” he said, facing the bright 
eyes, and determined to keep them so .constantly in view 
that he should not again forget where he was. 

“ None at all, I assure you,” she replied, “ and how 
you found me out is what I have been asking myself 
many times a day. I promised myself it should be the 
first thing settled when I saw you. And now I should 
like the question answered truly before we enter into any 
further business relations.” 

This common sense view of what another might have 
called romantic, and not wished the illusion, if there was 
any, dispelled, quite astonished Mr. Trout, and under 


88 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


her eager gaze he felt uneasy, but was too artful to be- 
tray it. He hesitated for a reply. She saw it. 

“ I think it should be the first fact disclosed to me," 
she continued, “and then we shall know just what to 
think of each other." This last was a little feminine 
ambiguity which Mr. Trout did not clearly see the force 
of, being accustomed to look at all statements in the light 
of reason ; for is not the law reason ? were they ever at 
odds.? So viewing it legally he could see no reason it 
should affect their opinions one of the other — such de- 
lightful incongruities were unknown to him. 

Smoothing his scant locks and crossing his knees he 
said, “ Really, Miss Ray, you ask me a very plain ques- 
tion, and you may wonder that I cannot give you a reply 
to suit it in candor, for the name of the one who found 
you alone — and — and I may add without offense, almost 
penniless,. and recognized you as the future Mistress of 
Ivandale, does not wish himself to be known : he is far 
too modest, timid, you know.” We think just here, that 
Mr. Trout was thinking of the secretions, for he hesi- 
tated, a shade of disgust passed over his face. He was 
no doubt mentally comparing his two clients. 

He had always served in his profession, heretofore, with- 
out discrimination as to the personal attractions of those 
who sought his aid and advice, but at the present moment 
it seemed almost an impossibility that he could ever again 
smile blandly upon the cunning shopman, the honest 
tradesman, and the heartless landlord, who dropped in 
now and then for a little light to be thrown upon the rights 
of creditors, note holders, and tenants, and who we must 
confess, though with all due respect to Mr. Trout’s power 
of elucidation, often went away as much in the fog men- 
tally and legally, as, living in London, they were apt to be 
physically. 

“ Then you are in honor bound not to reveal his 
name .?" she replied, in a disappointed tone. “ If ever 1 
become Mistress of Ivandale, I must surely repay him 
amply for his disinterestedness. Such it must be, for 
you wrote me that I was the sole heir — so he cannot hope 
to profit by it." 

“ No, no ; certainly not," said the lawyer, assuming a 


MISS, RA TS ANCESTRAL HOME. 


89 


little of his bustling air. “ I have read of such people, 
but never met one before, upon my honor. I never 
thought of looking at him in a disinterested light. Must 
be though. He must belong to the Society for the Promo- 
tion of Disinterested Motives,” and he laughed at his own 
wit, and likewise at the bare idea that such a society 
could exist. The truth was Mr. Trout was delighted at 
the successful manner in which he was managing this 
case : he was bewitched with the eyes, the complexion, 
the cheeks and the form, so he must exert himself to be 
witty and fascinating, and lead as much off the subject 
for which he had called as possible, so that he might easily 
find pretext for coming again. 

“ Very well,” returned Miss Ray, “ it makes little mat- 
ter whether he has been disinterested or not, I shall re- 
ward him just the same ;” and she looked as if there never 
were a lady bountiful to compare with her in grace and 
dignity, so charmingly did she seem already to be dis- 
pensing her substance. 

That point settled, the lawyer adroitly kept from allu- 
sion to business, and they talked of her voyage, friends, 
not relatives, left in America, the peculiarities of London, 
and many trivialities that Mr. Trout was astonished to 
find became suddenly of so much interest to him. In a 
delicate way Miss Ray alluded to the fact that she had 
been supplied with means through his hands, and from 
whomsoever it came, whether the disinterested person or 
some other, she desired to express her sincere thanks. 

Just as Mr. Trout was about to reply the door opened 
and “an applicant” was ushered in by Zeke. Mrs. Mut- 
ter always had a “wacancy.” As Zeke was under strict 
orders never to turn a person or a penny from the door, 
he invariably assured the would-be lodger that a “ wa- 
cancy” was about to be made ; for he knew the quick 
brain of Mrs. Mutter could contrive one on the shortest 
notice. The applicant was a man, short, stooping slightly, 
face somewhat browned from exposure, but honest and 
manly; his dress was not seedy yet not of the latest pattern. 
He did not seem embarrassed, but was apparently as sin- 
cere as an applicant could be. The last remark of the 
lady he had heard, for Zeke stood at the parlor door hesi- 


90 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


tatingly, before ushering him in ; yet, as there was no other 
reception room, he knew of no alternative but to intrude 
upon the interview of the “ pretty lady” and the lawyer. 
He accordingly opened the door, the man entered and 
prevented Mr. Trout from replying. The latter, feeling 
it a little unsafe to be seen by too many, took out his 
watch, expressed much surprise to find the morning had 
nearly passed, and, begging pardon for having tarried so 
long, arose, but as he did so, the lawyer was himself 
again, and slipping out memorandum and pencil said, 
“Full name, if you please. Miss Ray.” 

“ Margaret,” she replied. 

“ Sufficient at present ; I may call with papers of im- 
portance soon ;” and grasping the great seal in one hand 
and hat in the other, Mr. Trout began his retreat, not this 
time to a chair but to the door. He bowed and glanced 
at the pretty face, bowed again, glanced again, and was 
fast nearing the doorway and also Mrs. Mutter, who, glad 
of an opportunity to see and hear whatever she could, and 
what she could not to supply, had held herself in readiness 
at a moment’s notice. His retreat was not rapid, for 
the eyes were growing more charming as it became more 
apparent that the outside door would soon shut him out 
from their light, so that Mrs. Mutter had a chance to re- 
treat too, which she was compelled to do, into the passage- 
way, and there, in her discomfiture, abide till he turned 
and passed out, as Zeke opened the door. 

Miss Ray, of course, arose to leave, but not until the 
man had noted well her every feature. “Very like,” 
he said to himself, “ but she lacks the dimple. That’s 
settled, then; you can come, Sir Lawyer, I will not object.” 

Mrs. Mutter would have given this man a week’s lodg- 
ing had she been able to catch these words, but she did 
not know they had been spoken, she only thought he was 
pleased by her pretty face, for he looked after her, 
not rudely, but with more than the interest of a casual 
admirer. 

“ Good morning, sir,” said that worthy hostess. 

“ Good morning, ma’m,” replied the applicant. “ I 
called to see if — ” He hesitated, for he was thinking for 
what purpose he really did call. 


MISS RA rs ANCESTRAL HOME, 


91 


Mrs. Mutter, who, as we before said, could not suffer a 
pause, continued as if it were entirely natural, as indeed 
it was, for her to complete what others commenced — “ If 
I had a wacancy.? Just one, sir; one, and only had it an 
hour. I never can keep ’em, sir. Vacant in the morn- 
ing, called for by noon, and occupied by night. There’s 
nothing like being popular, I’ve been called popular 
Mrs. Mutter, sir, so much by my lodgers, that one of 
’em who was ’ard of ’earing, actually asked me once if 
my first name wasn’t Popular. So you — ” 

The applicant saw there was, nor would be, no end to 
her tongue, so he said, “ I beg your pardon, ma’m, I am 
short of time and must hurry away. It is interesting to ^ 
hear you, ma’m, but I must now hear about the price 
and accommodations ; so if you will please state them, I 
will mention them to the gentleman I am to meet in an 
hour. — It is for him, not myself.” 

“ Single ?” said the landlady. 

“ Yes ” 

“Young?” 

“ Not young and not old.” 

“Widower?” 

“ No.” 

“ That’s good, I mostly object to widowers ; they are 
sly. They don’t find things, of course, in a ’ouse where 
there’s many to look after just as at ’ome. They expect 
it, though. But how can one lone woman look after so 
many, just as if she ’ad but one to see to? Now the 
first — ” 

“Then you would take him if he should be suited?” 
said the man, again breaking in ; “ but if you have an ap- 
plication before I return, do not lose the chance, for he 
may have found accommodations by the time I see him,” 
and he arose to leave. Mrs. Mutter surprised at this 
business-like way of treating a vacancy at her popular 
house, stood silent for once as the man bowed and left. 
As he passed out, Zeke said, “ Wacancy suit, sir ? always 
can make one.” 

. Joe Matsell stepped out of No. 40 Chapel Street, 
congratulating himself on this master-stroke, which he 
k'iew would pleasantly surprise Mr. Wallace, and he 


92 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


hoped would lay aside one obstacle in the road to fame 
and fortune. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LANE HAD NOT GONE, BUT THE BLIND MAN HAD. 

When Isaac Harold left so hurriedly the home of 
Mistress Boggs, he hurried back to Blue Bottle Court, 
where, after plunging the brass pin deep into the cushion 
and leaving it there, “ straightening himself out,” hanging 
his cloak upon the peg — for as the day advanced the 
weather grew warmer, and it interfered with handling 
easily the gatherings — feeding dearie and adjusting the 
sack while sipping some cold tea — there was no time to 
warm it — and tasting between the sips snatches of bread, 
cheese, and a pork pie he had bought of a small boy whom 
he saw standing wistfully at the intersection of Cross-Cut 
Lane and Chapel Street — this boy’s face, so honest and 
manly, yet withal having a pinched look as if pain were 
tugging at his heartstrings, still looked out of every morsel 
that the Little Man handled, — he thus addressed himself : 

“ There’s another wrong come to light. I smell it to 
day, and I smelled it yesterday and day before. The 
Great Chimney is very foul, and one can’t breathe well. 
Ha ! ha ! how it snorts and puffs ! how it wants to throw 
it off, but it can’t, so it blows and worries. When Great 
Heart and I have done our work and we are not so hur- 
ried, we will go to the green fields and stay. But the 
Great Chimney will still stuff itself foul and then snort 
over it. Well, well. I’ve no time to fret over it ; but 
still there’s wrong come to light. I bought this of a boy 
— he’s been happier than he is now. He ain’t hungry, 
because he can eat a pie now and then, and very good 
eating it is too” — he snapped a juicy piece — “he’s hun- 
gry in his heart, I think. Maybe somebody’s wronged him. 
I’ll go that way to my gatherings. Let me see if I can. 
I’ve been without method this morning ; now I must mix 

t 


THE BLIND MAN GONE. 


93 


method and time again. I think it is time I made my 
quarterly visit to Lady B . She doesn’t like the gath- 

erings to get very high ; good gatherings they are, too. I 
pay her a large price. Why 1 because she gives it to the 
poor — and she does it too, for I’ve seen many a sad face 
smile when she came in sight. Yes, I’ll go there, that 
takes me by the blind man. I’ll tell him, and then Great 
Heart will be sure to know where we saw the Trout swim- 
ming this morning. Then I’ll go by the boy whose heart 
isn’t easy ; then I’ll gather. That’s method. Good by, 
dearie.” He pushed into the cupboard the remains of 
his lunch, swept the crumbs into the fire, and was gone. 

He went to Lunley Lane, but the blind man and Rover 
were not to be seen. A little troubled, he continued on 
to Cross-Cut Lane, and the boy was not to be seen. 

“ I knew the Great Chimney was foul,” he muttered. 

I knew it. I’ll go on to Lady B ’s.” 

After Mr. Trout, well satisfied with the impression he 
must have made upon Miss Ray, and enjoying immensely 
the impression she had made upon him, left Chapel Street, 
he hesitated, and likewise meditated : I must expedite 
matters, but I don’t want Marplot’s help, and I won’t have 
it. She can prove herself heiress of Ivandale, and if she 
can’t I can ; but that’s not enough. What ^darplot says 
I don’t believe. Stay — there’s a man called upon me one 
morning — honest, too, he was. iThought then I didn’t 
want anyone so honest in this affair ; but just here he 
will fit exactly. He knows something about the question- 
able papers. I must find him. First I will go around by 
the Wilton and see our friend the blind man. He told 
me he never confused footsteps. I’m sure he wouldn’t 
confuse Marplot’s with any other man’s. I don’t want 
him to visit Miss Ray, and I mustn’t ask if he does ; soil’ll 
hire this poor fellow to listen. ’Ron my word, I thought 
he looked at me that day as I left him. Well, if he can 
see, so much the better. Let me look for the card my 
honest caller left me if I should need his services.” He 
drew from a side pocket of his coat a small case, and out 
of that a card, and read, “ If my services are needed, 
notify the blind mendicant at the corner of Lunley Lane. 
Wallace.” He was astonished. He had not read the 


94 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


card when it was handed him, supposing it was simply a 
name ; and not thinking he should need the man, as he 
was honest, had hastily thrust it into a receptacle for the 
many such that he daily received. 

Thus doubly anxious to see the mendicant, he quick- 
ened his pace to the Wilton, and along the Wilton to the 
Lane ; but the corner showed no blind man and no dog. 
It differed not a whit now from the other corners. 

Disappointed, he turned toward his office. 

When Joe stepped from Mrs. Mutter’s door, his sole 
purpose was to step to the corner of the Wilton and Lunley 
as soon as a rapid walk would take him there. He said 
to himself, “ I cannot see Mr. Wallace, but I will send 
him word that I have seen Miss Ray, and tell the rest 
to-night. Let me see, the true Margaret should have, 
probably, slender form, and surely dark hair, black eyes, 
fresh complexion, be quick in speech, ready in wit, kind 
and so charitable as to often be deceived. As to the 
kind and charitable I can’t say, but the rest I am sure 
answers — all except the dimple — that is the greatest proof, 
and she has not got it — unless not having one to match 
it, she fills it with something.” 

Of course Joe would be puzzled to tell just what that 
something might be, yet he had a vague idea that ladies, 
even when as pretty and fresh as spring blossoms, would 
cover a blemish with some artful device. 

“ That’s the way I account for it. I hope she is the 
one, because she is sweet and pretty, and, I feel quite 
sure, kind and charitable. I said I didn’t care if the law- 
yer did go there again, and stay just as long, and longer 
too ; but I think of it now, she may be the one, and any- 
how, that is too good bait for him.” 

Brisk steps soon brought him to the corner of the 
Lunley. He found the Lane had not gone, but the blind 
man had. How cheerily, despite the sad surroundings, 
would have beat, for the moment, the heart of Susan 
Thump, had she known that she had that morning disap- 
pointed three not of her own sex. 

That night Joe took the staff Mr. Wallace gave him 
when they began their journey — his journey to business, 
fame, and fortune — turned the key in the door, stepped 


THE BLIND MAN GONE. 


95 


down the narrow stairway leading into the sitting-room 
behind the shop of Boggs & Co. A customer held the 
presence and attention of Mistress Boggs, so that Hiram 
was left alone, but not at rest. The dishes from the re- 
cently finished meal told the task to be done. He was 
just lifting the kettle from the swinging hook over the 
fire as Joe lifted the latch from the hasp and swung open 
the door. Hiram’s gradual retreat that morning as fast 
as an advance was made by the trio gave him little chance 
to catch a fair view of the new lodger ; it had been a 
subject of thought all day, whether this man would drop 
him now and then, on the sly of course, a word of comfort, 
as Isaac had always done. Sometimes it was only “ Come \ 
and see me Hiram,” sometimes it was “ Poor Boggs !” 
Sometimes, if Mistress Boggs were within hearing — and it 
took a good distance to get her out of it — it would be only 
a sigh, but he always knew it was for him. Such a com- 
fort it was to see that bent, spry figure with the red sack 
striding up Cross-Cut Lane, even if he did not exchange 
with it anything beyond a civil morning greeting. 

It was the desire of his life to visit Harold, although 
he did not know exactly the route to the Blue Bottle, and 
there seemed little probability that his ideas would ever 
be more clear upon it, unless, as he dare not hope, the 
new lodger might so work himself into favor with Mis- 
tress Boggs that her consent might be gained ; but such 
was only to be thought of when she had made a particu- 
larly good bargain with the mantua-maker in disposing 
of the cast-aside finery that had been gathered by the 
Little Man, or when she had had an especially large 
number of sales in the shop, and could shake her pocket, 
or jingle her money-box. So Hiram had two things to 
hope for from the new lodger, comfort — not alleviation, 
nothing but death to himself or Mistress Boggs, he had 
long assured himself,^could bring that — comfort and a 
visit to Harold. One look at the good honest face of 
Joe, and tears sprang to the eyes of Hiram. He let the 
kettle drop, and fortunately it fell back upon the hook. 
Joe walked quickly across the room, for he knew by the 
voice from the shop that he might speak as he had prom- 
ised Isaac he would, a word of cheer, took Hiram’s hand 


96 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


and said softly, ‘‘I am . your friend. Let me help you 
when I can.” 

It was a little hand that met Joe’s, but it was a grate- 
ful one. The call from the shop, “ Hiram ! look in the 
area; a cat !” told them both that the sound, not the 
words, assuredly, had caught the quick ear of Mistress 
Boggs. 

“Yes,” retitrned Hiram meekly, and closed upon him- 
self the little door into the next, the outer room that led 
to the area. 

Joe walked independently through the shop, bid the 
lady within it not to turn the bolt till his return, which 
might be soon, and might be late. The pay in advance 
made nothing he might ask the least trouble; so she 
smilingly assured him that it made no difference at what 
hour he came, the door would always be left so that his 
key would open it. 

He found Mr. Wallace at Jericho looking weary, 
troubled, and pacing up and down the room, which would 
have been called a waiting-room, if there had ever been 
anyone to wait in it. 

“Ah! Joe,” he exclaimed, extending his hand and 
coming forward as the door opened, “ glad to see you. 
News so soon V' 

“ No, sir, not exactly news.” And he detailed the 
going to the house of Boggs & Co., the seeing of the 
lawyer, and his own visit to No. 40 Chapel Street. 

“Well done! well done, honest Joe!” replied Mr. 
Wallace while his brow lost a little of the perplexed 
frown. “ The mark is not there V' 

“ No, sir, it is not ; yet she is pretty and good and all 
the rest, but — the hair a little light, Mr. Wallace.” 

• “ Well, Joe, I am satisfied. Now, your life for some 
time may be very monotonous, but are you still satisfied.^ 
Marplot I do not think will see her, but if he should, let 
me know. If Trout’s visits are yery frequent, let me 
know through the blind man at the corner of Lunley 
and the Wilton, for you may not find me here when you 
call. Draw from him whatever you need, by week or 
month as you please.” 

Joe assured him that he was content for the present 


TOM BARLEY SLEEPS. 97 

to watch and wait, although to a man of his active habits 
a more stirring life was preferable. 

“ Do not fear ; it shall come, Joe : fame and fortune — 
fame and fortune after business.” And Mr. Wallace 
ordered glasses of the ale for which Jericho would have 
been far more celebrated if more had known and once 
tasted it. They emptied, re-filled, and emptied again, then 
Joe took up his staff for a return to Cross-Cut Lane. Mr. 
Wallace and the dog went with him till the road was less 
lonely and the passers more frequent, when they bade 
him good night — the dog with a bound upon his shoulder 
and lap upon his cheek, the master with a kindly and 
hearty pressure of the hand. 


' CHAPTER XV. 

TOM BARLEY SLEEPS, WAKES, AND SLEEPS AGAIN. 

The day had been eventful to all whose history we 
are recording, and perhaps, in its way, no more eventful 
to the rest than to Mr. Tom Barley. 

When he awakened that morning, not with the sun nor 
soon after, it first occurred to him, and after arousing, it 
was some time in occurring, so hazy was his perception, 
that his mattress was unusually hard, and not at all 
springy, as a good mattress should be ; so he turned upon 
it, and being nearer its edge than he thought, rolled into 
a hollow, which could in no wise be called “ Sleepy Hol- 
low,” for it was padded with lumps of earth, and tufted 
with weeds, which were on the defensive and met him 
with needle-like points, which if Mr. Barley had been wide 
awake, would have been known to him as thistles. 

Not finding the mattress as he thought it should be, 
he felt for the pillow, and grasped a worm-eaten board 
that had dropped from the place it once held in the old 
house near by. It broke, but that was not what a good 
pillow should do: it should bend, not break; so he tried 
for the covering, and drew up only fog. As he was con- 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


98 

scious that there was enough of that over him before, he 
did not draw twice. To solve these freaks of the mat- 
tress, the pillow, and the coverings, he found required 
more wit than he could just then command; so there 
seemed nothing else for Mr. Tom Barley to do but to 
go to sleep again, which he did. 

There was a house not far from him which was known 
to a certain class of people who did not bear an enviable 
reputation, as the “ Catch ’em Alive.” It took the in- 
nocent and unsuspecting in. And if they were not pugi- 
listic after they found themselves in, they never met 
with bodily harm ; they were only helped by a charming 
beverage into the “Land of Nod,” whence they issued 
with pockets turned inside out, to find themselves some 
distance from where they were when they entered the 
above, often with the dawn just breaking in the horizon, 
but light not so readily breaking upon them as to where 
they were, or where they should be. 

Ralph Speeder, no doubt, had this house in his mind 
when he led the tipsy Barley into its neighborhood, for he 
did little at hap-hazard : nature had made him artful and 
Marplot’s lessons and example had made him not a whit 
the less cunning. If Barley missed anything, its disap- 
pearance could be readily accounted for, as there could 
scarcely be found an honest man in the region he would 
find himself in when he should be sober enough to look 
about him. 

When Ralph left him he rolled him out of the way of 
the passer-by, and in his drunken dreams he had rolled 
himself still more out of the way, and at every roll he 
grew to look more and more like a heap of dirt ; so it is 
readily to be accounted for why he slept undiscovered till 
he again felt the mattress lumpy, the pillow inflexible, 
and the coverings gone. But instead of the fog, the sun 
was upon him, and being less dense, he could not so 
readily draw it over him when he reached for a beam 
which fell across his feet. The mattress annoyed him 
the most, for its tufts were full of twinges, not of con- 
science, but of the flesh : whenever he moved they 
stung as if to make him get up or roll off them, they 
didn’t care which so long as they got rid of him ; and so 


TOM BARLEY SLEEPS, 


99 


persistently d.d they sting and pry into his face, his neck 
and his hands, that he was obliged to gather himself to- 
gether and sit up. This he did, but the first attempt re- 
sulted only in so far accomplishing this, as could be done 
by resting upon one elbow and inquiring for “ M-i-s-tress 
Ba-r-l-e-y.” 

Neither that imaginary person or anyone who was not 
imaginary having appeared, he fell back upon the tufts, 
murmuring “ M-o-u-l-d, m-o-n^e-y, sm-e-11 m-o-u-l-d.” 

Concerning the money, he did not again speak till 
sometime after, when his brain was clearer. He did not 
rest long, for the tufts seeing that by perseverance he 
could be thrown off, began again to pry him ; so he sat 
fiirly and squarely up this time, looked about him and 
for the first time began to realize that he had been beastly 
drunk, and was just getting sober. Our readers, we know, 
have never found themselves as Mr. Tom Barley found 
himself, and we trust they never will ; but if they have 
ever watched anyone who has thus found himself, they 
will see that when he can sit up, look about, and have 
some just idea of the states called drunk and sober, that 
he has fairly started on the road to the latter ; and thus it 
was with Barley. So the longer he sat up the more sober 
he grew, and the more delighted the tufts were with the 
result of their persistency, for they bounded back on 
their stalks, the stalks bounded back to their places, and 
when he next looked behind and around him, the mat- 
tress was a bed of erect thistles. The first thing he 
needed was his hat. This lay at some distance, but he was 
so befogged that he thought it might be reached with 
little exertion; so he put out his hand — the child reached 
for the moon — it was utterly beyond the power of Tom 
Barley to get that hat, and it was beyond his power of 
comprehension to see why he could not. He would have 
rested again upon the mattress, but when he leaned a 
little the tufts, now upright, began again to pry and prod, 
to remind him that they did not want him, so he sat up 
again. 

And a most pitiable sight was poor Tom Barley. He 
was weak in the eyes, and the sun was looking him square 
in the fane. He saw his hat, and could not get it; he was 


lOO 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


tired and dare not lay himself back ; he was weak in the 
legs, and he could not get up and get home. 

It being in order nowadays \.o account for all things, 
let the philosopher answer this :QNhy is it that a man can 
be sickened by a medicine, and though it bring relief from 
pain and make him well, it will nauseate him ever after by 
its sight ; .while a man can be sickened in body and mind, 
muddled in brain, bleared in vision, bedraggled in dress, 
bereft of a hat and bereft of his legs, jeered at by all the 
gamins, rolled out of the way by the indifferent because 
he has, not by compulsion,- but of his own free will, pulled 
the cork, tipped the bottle, and swallowed a draught — yes, 
many draughts — which will, he knows, do all this ; and 
that same bottle re-filled, will after he has been sober a 
reasonable or rather an unreasonable length of time, hold 
such a charm for him that he uncorks, tips again, only 
to meet more sickening, more muddling, more blearing, 
more bedraggling, more bereavin g, more jeering, more 
rolling ; and still again. — Why is ity 

Mr. Barley had a few thoughtsr^f the past, but they 
were vague, the vaguest of which was why he found him- 
self now and then calling for Mistress Barley.? He was 
unable to settle the matter and gave it up. Next he 
thought of the present ; then his ideas began to be more 
clear, the chief among them being that he could not sit 
there much longer, that he dare not lie down ; and hence 
there was nothing left for him to do but to try and get 
up. He stretched out his hand and arm to reach for his 
leg, and was more successful than when he reached for 
his hat. He moved it, for from the feeling he was not 
sure that it still held an attachment to his body ; but 
deciding soon that it did, he moved the other, the decision 
for the continued possession of that was also favorable, 
and he drew them both up, pushed them down, and after 
repeating this drawing and pushing several times, he at 
last ventured to work himself off the mattress on to firmer, 
fairer ground, where he could rest without being pried 
and -prodded. 

In resting he fell asleep, and as the sun grew warmer 
and brighter, it seemed to warm and brighten Mr. Barley, 
mentally as well as physically, so that when he again 


TOM BARLEY SLEEPS, 


lOI 


awakened he was able to take his bearings with some de 
gree of understanding. And having done this, strange to 
say, he forgot the past and the present, and he only thought 
of the immediate future; and in that future he saw a hand: 
it was not slender, nor tender, yet it belonged to a woman. 
It was hard, large, muscular, one of those hands that 
grasp firmly, and shake warmly, but what it thus grasps 
and shakes is a — coat collar ! And is it any wonder he 
saw the hand with fear, especially when he was so weak, 
or knew he would be when he got on his feet, that he 
could not walk away from it } 

It was owned proudly and wielded strongly by Polly 
Brfrley — “ Sister Polly ” and “ Brother Tom,” they said to 
each other when a third party was present or within hear- 
ing. But it has been slyly whispered that, suspecting all 
was not actually so placid as it seemed, the third party 
had often stolen softly back and heard what we will not 
now relate ; but it is sufficient to say that one would have 
no thought of Polly being the sister of Tom, or of Tom 
being the brother of Polly. 

From the slight bint we have given of the power with 
which her hand could, and often did grasp Tom’s coat 
collar, the reader may judge that her tongue was muscu- 
larly developed in proportion, and that she could grasp a 
subject with it quite as readily. 

To return to poor Tom. It is no wonder that he saw 
the hand, the arm, the whole figure, and soon began to 
feel the shake ; and it is well his imagination had such 
play, for it shook him upon his feet. His joints were stiff, 
the knee-joints the only ones which were not; and if they 
only would stiffen like the rest, he could get that hat he 
longed for to keep the sun from staring and glaring at 
• him so mercilessly. 

He stepped — or thought he would— when his legs doub- 
led like a jointed foot-rule, and he vyas down. The hand 
and its shake spurred him on to try again, and this time he 
Stood longer. The knees were a trifle stiffer, and when they 
began to weaken again, he knew it in time and sat down. 
. He rested long enough then to again take bearings: and 
know about where he was ; and the hand all the time get- 
ting larger, the grasp firmer, and the shake warmer, he 


102 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


got up and walked. He repeated this operation until he 
had, at last, the hat in his hand ; and the exertion to get it 
upon his head was almost as great as to get it in his hand. 
He waited until he thought his arm pretty steady, and took 
aim. The hat and the hand came down on the right 
shoulder like a lump of lead, and threatened to throw him 
off his equilibrium, so great was the shock, ^gain he 
rested, and when he considered it safe, tried again. This 
time it struck plump upon his ear. He saw that the hat 
Avas gaining ground, so he continued aiming till it struck 
where he could draw its broad brim over his eyes. It was 
a sorry hat: muddy, crushed in where it ought to project, 
and projecting where it ought to hollow, only so much of 
it on as it could not help — it seemed ashamed of itself and 
ashamed of its owner, who while aiming and missing aim 
so many times, felt the hand was fading, the grasp and the 
shake growing feeble, so without them to threaten, without 
the tufts to pry, began to feel happy and so comfortable 
that he drew up his knees, hugged them tenderly, laid 
down his head and snored so loudly that Isaac Harold, 
who was hurrying by on a short cut -to see what gather- 
ings Lady B might have piled up for him, stopped — 

although there was little time for stopping when so much 
was to be done — listened, looked and saw the doubled-up 
figure, hurried up to it, walked all about it, first to make 
sure whether it was man or beast — for, although it wore a 
hat its hair was matted and dusty ; although it wore a 
coat, it was so rumpled and the rumples were so filled 
with mud ; although it seemed to have a skin, it was so 
scratched with the tufts and grimed with dirt, that had it 
not been for the loud and regular snores, he might have 
thought it some crouching beast who had burst its cage 
at some country show. 

After looking it well over, he deemed it safe to draw 
near, and fortunately for him — for it saved time — he touch- 
ed Mr. Barley first upon his coat collar, and as this was his 
tender part, he was awake as soon as he could be, under 
the circumstances. And thinking, of course, that the han(J 
of Polly was upon him, he seemed to nerve himself for 
the shake that would follow, and looked as courageous as 
a licked cur. He waited, but the shake not following the 


TOM BARLEY SLEEPS. 


103 


gmsp, he ventured to lool^ up ; and seeing the oddity before 
him with clearer vision than he had yet seen anything — 
for, of course, the more sober he became, the better he 
could see — he exclaimed, “The devil!” but looked re- 
lieved. It was evident he feared him less than the owner 
of the large hand. 

“ Ha ! ha ! that’s good,” observed the Little Man ; 
“ but you have made a mistake, my friend. I am not the 
devil, but I know some people who are dear friends of 
his, and will live with him some day. Now who are you, 
and^what are you doing here } You needn’t be afraid to 
tell me, for I say again, I ain’t the gentleman you speak 
of, and I don’t want you.” 

This last he added when he saw Barley look suspi- 
ciously at his sack. 

“ Now, I say, who are you V* 

“ Barley, sir, Barley ; I’m Barley,” replied the man of 
that name. 

“ Ha ! ha ! good again,” said Isaac. “ I see, I see, a 
corned Barley — no, a Barley corned ; ha ! ha !” he laughed 
long and loud. “ I wasn’t stupid to think of that now, 
was I.? While you’re straightening up, friend. I’ll 
straighten out, so ; and if you could do it, you’d be sober 
in a twinkle.” 

As he uttered the last sentence, he laid down his sack, 
laid his hat upon it, stretched out his arms, turned his 
palms outward, and having selected a smooth piece of 
ground, no.t many feet square, said again, “ So !” 

What wonder that Mr. Tom Barley looked about to 
make sure he was yet in London. And, indeed, if he had 
not recognized well the particular locality of London in 
which he found himself upon awaking, he would have been 
still doubtful, notwithstanding the Little Man’s declaration 
about his own identity. As it was he lost at once the sense 
of security he felt upon being sure of still abiding in that 
town, when he saw, one instant, the head of the Little Man 
where his heels ought to be, and the next his heels where 
his head had been ; and the transition grew so rapid that 
he saw head and heels at the same time. Then it occurred 
to him, still in that vague sense that everything had in 
the last few hours, that the devil could not find a fitter 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


104 

place to begin recruiting his hosts than London would 
prove. If his suspicions were well founded, there was no 
use trying to escape ; so he awaited the result, consoling 
himself that he might be better treated than if he stayed 
on earth, and met Polly, who was, no doubt, now on the 
watch for him. His worldly possessions she could claim, 
and not mourn a bit because she could claim them. 

‘ As he was still somewhat misty in mind, it took to 
think all this as long as it took Harold to straighten out ; 
so coming out even, the one with his thoughts and the 
other with his somersaults, they waited to see what next 
was to be done. 

The Little Man picked up his hat, put it on his head, 
replaced his sack on his back and waited. Tom suppos- 
ing he was giving him time — very considerate too in the 
devil, he thought — to make preparations for a journey in 
the sack, shook some of the dirt from his clothes, and 
put his hat under his arm, lest it might drop out as they 
travelled, then waited. 

There was no more time to be lost, so Harold said, 

“ Do you want to go home V' at the same time he 
swung the sack off his back for some needful adjusting 
to make it feel easier. 

Barley, supposing this sealed his fate, and that the less 
resistance he made the better it would be for him after 
his master got him home, said, trying his best to make 
a bow, “ I feel honored, sir.” 

“ Ha! ha! I don’t know why you should. I’m only 
a gatherer. Come, I’ll see you so near home that you can 
find the way easy. I must not waste any more time, 
friend. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it, 
that one can’t be lazy. I’m promised some fine gather- 
ings ; so come, stir yourself, I must be off.” 

As Harold said this, he still held the open sack in his 
hand, and it beganHo look quite inviting to Barley, es- 
pecially when he found it a much more difficult feat than 
he had anticipated to step, even to the sack, so he said 
meekly, “I’m ready, sir, quite ready.” 

By this time he was near enough to begin a series 
of ducks for the open mouth. He either did not take 
good aim, or in taking it grew nervous and so he lost, 


TOM BARLEY SLEEPS. ^ 10$ 

for at every duck he hit the Little Man, but did not 
hit the sack. 

At last he looked up despairingly, and said, “ May I 
go in feet foremost ?” 

“ In where V' asked Isaac, much perplexed at the 
cause of the ducking and the inquiry. Barley as much 
perplexed pointed to the sack in reply. 

“ Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Isaac, “ good again. Do 
you think I’m going to carry you ? I said I’m a gatherer, 
I knowj^but I didn’t say I gathered your kind o’ cloth. 
What would I do with you, eh V' 

“ I thought,” replied Barley, “you said you’d see me 
home — your home didn’t you mean ?” 

“ My home ! What do I want of tipsy folks in my 
home, and nobody but dearie to look after things all day 
long. You wouldn’t mind dearie, and .the Blue Bottle 
swings too close by. Oh, no ; you don’t know who I am, 
do you .? You don’t understand. I mean, you know you 
ain’t quite yourself yet.” ,, 

“Why, why,” said Barley, drawing back from the 
mouth of the sack with disappointment, for he felt the 
firm hand again if this resort failed, as it now seemed 
likely to. “ I — I — thought you were the — the — the devil,” 
he whispered ; and as he did so, the fumes from his breath 
would, no doubt, greatly have delighted that far-famed 
individual, had he stood where Isaac Harold stood, and 
inhaled them. 

“ Good ! good !” roared the latter, dropping the sack ; 
“ how many good things I find in your company ! That’s 
so good I must double up and he did, till his long nose 
was between his knees, while he roared and chuckled. 
When he could not roar, and was too tired to chuckle, 
he hee, heed. 

“That’s so good, now, I must straighten out again, 
so.” And while making ready with arms and palms, he 
continued, “ I see you thought I was going to make off 
with you in my sack, ha! ha! ha!” and head and heels 
came up alternately again. 

“Now, just try it,” he cried, balancing himself on his 
hands, while his painted shoes looked aloft ; “just try it. 
If I ever get drunk, that is the way I shall sober myself in 


io6 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


a twinkling. It always makes me feel better. If I’m 
sick, it makes me well. If I’m in trouble, it’s all gone 
after a few like these and up and down he went again. 

Poor Barley ! The gyrations made him dizzy, and if 
the sack had been open no doubt he would have ducked 
again with better aim, for he thought he was reassured 
th^at it was the devil making game of him. 

Between his uncertainty regarding this individual, 
and the certainty regarding the shake that was growing 
warmer and warmer every moment, he did not know what 
to do, having no bottle to uncork, tip up, and once more 
drown his troubles. The Little Man soon ended his per- 
plexity by a final pirouette, which brought his feet firm 
on the ground and his head aloft, putting on his hat and 
sack, taking Barley’s arm, and saying decidedly, “ Time’s 
up ! time’s up ! Where do you live V' 

“ In Cheatem Street, sir,” replied Tom, still trembling 
and fearing as to what disposition was to be made of him. 

“ Ha ! ha ! another good thing. Are you the Barley — 
Tom Barley — kind, good, generous Tom Barley, who is so 
sorry for the hard up who come to him, that he always 
gives more than the things are worth ? He is very kind 
this Tom Barley is. I know just where he lives. He 
has a sister Polly ; yes, I know Polly Barley ! Time’s 
up !” 

In and out, up and down the streets that separated 
the vicinity of the Catch ’em Alive from the house of 
Polly Barley which caught ’em any way it could, they 
went till they reached the corner of Cheatem Street, 
where Isaac, pointing to the house, let go of his arm. 

Tom tried to thank him, and perhaps did, for the 
Little Man said, “ No matter, no matter,” and stepped 
just a foot or two back, where he could see without beins: 
seen. 

Tom thought himself strong while he leaned upon 
Isaac, but when left to himself he reeled and tottered, 
perhaps as much from dread as from lack of stimulants. 
He drew nearer and nearer, and when he sank upon his 
own step, the Little Man saw a head withdraw from the 
window of the second floor, heard a sharp clashing of the 
sash and sill, the street door open suddenly, saw a hand, 


THE COTTAGE IN LUNLEY LANE. lO/ 


large and strong, extended till it was on a line with Bar- 
ley’s coat collar, descend, grasp it firmly, and lifting him 
up, as one would a puppy, shake him warmly but never 
weakening in her hold, swing him into the house. 

“ Poor Tom !” said the Little Man, as he hurried away. 
“ I haven’t seen him for many a day. And Polly, ha ! 
ha ! I knew she’d serve him up that way. I sometimes 
think it’s quiet living with dearie, but it’s peaceful, and 
when there’s so much to do there’s no time to bicker.” 

He had knovfn them when he began his life in London 
years before. Then the golden balls swung, or looked as 
if they might swing from before the door ; but now Polly 
was looking up in the world, she had abolished them, 
and become a — we shall see. But nevertheless loans 
were made in a small back room with a green cambric 
curtain cutting off a corner for inspection of what was to 
be advanced upon. Upon certain hours the poor beings 
needing the loans had to come in by an alley and a rear 
entrance, and no doubt they liked that way the better. It 
certainly seems more natural than to openly acknowledge 
one’s self, by the front, beaten in pocket, and so almost 
beaten in life. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE COTTAGE IN LUNLEY LANE. 

The house to which Samuel was borne on the night 
of his rescue, the room in which he was adopted by Miss 
Thump and christened by the Rev. Josiah Peerie, were 
not the house and the room Susan now called home. 
Then she occupied as unpretentious a house as the Lane 
could offer, yet it was neat, wholesome, and had an air 
about it that said, “ Come in, come in ; you will never 
catch my mistress in a flurry — never mind when you call.” 
Everything seemed to be in order, and yet not so exact 
but that everything might get out of order and yet not 
annoy in the least the lady who was the head, the feet, the 
hands, and everything necessary to keep this home so in- 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


■I08 


viting to herself, to Samuel, to the neighbors, and to 
friends. 

Of the last she held a generous list. It included 
everybody on the Lane and everybody off the Lane who 
had ever known her as she really was. A brief acquaint- 
ance with Susan Thump under aggressive circumstances, 
as when she first met Rover, might lead one to pronounce 
her whimsical, like many maidens of her years. But the 
face was too plump, round, and rosy ; the eyes, although 
sharp and discerning, too mild when at rest ; the hands 
too steady, when strength and firmness were required ; 
the feet too ready and willing to run for the needy to be- 
long to a whim&ical person. She had no living relatives, 
and for this she had many years been giving thanks. No 
one had the right to say, “ Susan Thump, why do you 
tliis V' or, “ Susan Thump, why do you that V' So when 
Samuel dropped into her heart just as naturally as he had 
dropped into her arms, she had no one to care and pro- 
vide for, except now and then some hapless soul, whom 
she either nourished by her tea — it was not rose-flavored 
then, but still was as good as she drank herself — and toast 
moistened with good butter, or by delicacies which were 
not costly to the giver, but rare to the receiver and 
soothed its convalescent hours till it had renewed strength 
and gained courage enough to take up the staff again, or 
gently, tenderly helped it to the brink of that river it 
must cross alone and be welcomed on the other shore 
according to its work here — just which of these offices 
she should perform nature, and not Susan of course 
decided. So what wonder that Samuel slipped into a 
void in her heart and a void in her home } 

She had a small income, whose principal was left by 
an old uncle, for whom, it was whispered, Susan had re- 
mained single. However that may be, we do know that 
she' nursed him patiently for many years, and when he 
was gone she found that he had rewarded her as best he 
could — had left her all he had. After settling with the 
doctor and the undertaker, and paying a few small debts, 
she counted her available funds and found their interest 
would supply her modest wants, and hers alone. But this 
would not do for a nature so active. - She must have 


THE COTTAGE IN LUNLEY LANE. 109 


work for her heart and work for her hands. The former 
went out to the poor and needy in kindness and sym- 
pathy, the latter must supply the substantial. She knew 
kindness alone would not take the place of bread, and 
well wishing would not bring them coals. So she resolved 
that what she earned should be all given where it seemed 
most needed. And thus it was that she became a nurse, 
monthly, weekly, daily or hourly, according to the depth 
of the patient’s pocket — and many, many times she nursed 
when the pocket had no depth in fact, when there was 
no pocket at all ; but then she knew she was giving and 
doing good, and she watched, trotted, fondled, and 
soothed just as tenderly. Many a little eye has looked 
wistfully into her cheery face and been quite reconciled to 
the coming, after the love, the light, and the joy it read 
therein. From this special nursing she began to be called 
upon for all cases, from croup to consumption, from sud- 
den to lingering; and then when the demise came, what 
more natural than that Miss Thump should take charge 
of all matters pertaining to a well-ordered funeral ? 

At a marriage she was just as ready, but it was re- 
marked by some, that she then wore a sadder face than 
at a birth or a funeral, and that she arranged the bride’s 
dress with less satisfaction than she wrapped the soft 
flannel and dainty cambric around the newly arrived, or 
laid the flowers about the form of the lately departed. 
She tried to let no one see this, but she often said to her- 
self, “When they are born and when they die, Susan 
knows what is before them, but when they are married, 
it so often happens that they wish that they had never seen 
the light or were about to close their eyes on it.’’ 

So it was that Susan ofttimes was wanted at the same 
moment in several places, but invariably the poorest had 
her preference. 

After Samuel was hers beyond a doubt, she did not 
go out so often, and never to remain overnight unless the 
case was urgent. 

Her time had been so much employed in the years 
intervening between the death of her uncle and the com- 
ing of Samuel, that her income had for some years been 
untouched, so it had been used to swell the principal, and 


lO 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


both now afforded means for Samuel’s support. She 
taught him all her small stock of learning in his earlier 
childhood ; she clothed him warmly in health, and nursed 
him tenderly in sickness ; she sent him to school later, 
and bought for him whatever talent called for or genius 
suggested. 

Had he well repaid her .? His first earnings after he 
entered the office of S. S. Trout he laid as proudly in 
her lap as if they had been a hundred pounds. She 
recognized at once the boy’s tender feeling and knew she 
must not refuse them, so with tears and thanks they be- 
came hers. 

“ For a new dress,” Samuel said, “and to be made by 
a mantua-maker, too.” So it was bought and made and 
kept for wearing when Susan passed more milestones, 
the next most important of which was when, after serving 
faithfully the stipulated time, Samuel entered into part- 
nership with S. S. Trout. 

When the first case he won was amply paid for, his 
head was even more proudly poised as he laid these his 
larger earnings in Mother Susan’s lap, and said, “For a 
home ; the little cottage on the Lane nearer the Wilton is 
for sale, and you must buy it. The yard in front you 
will soon have blooming. The pretty parlor opens on 
the porch ; there you must sit and watch the flowers grow- 
ing.” 

“ And your coming,” interrupted Susan as she wiped 
away the tears. 

“ Yes, that you will do, I know,” said he, smoothing 
the yet fair brow and toying with a little gray curl that 
escaped from beneath the cap-border. “And a maid 
you must have, or you will not have time to watch for the 
flowers and for me.” 

And so they left the old house and were happy in the 
little cottage Susan had often wished she could own. 
When they moved, the shopmen moved first — carpets with 
hangings and furniture to match, pretty china and glass 
for the table, books for Samuel and easy seats for Susan; 
and there we found her when Meg rapped, the morning 
after the river had refused to hold any longer its dead. 

No one thought of envying Susan her good luck. Not 


THE COTTAGE IN LUNLEY LANE. Ill 


a Lunley, however humble, but was taken through the 
new home from top to bottom; not a friend but sipped 
from the new china the fragrant tea that Susan drew from 
the bright urn which reflected her happy face, and which 
was filled and re-filled many times for days after the re- 
moval. 

Samuel closed his musty books, folded his papers 
many times during those few days and peeped in to see 
if the stock 6f bread, meat, cheese, or cake was getting 
low, or if Mother Susan needed anything he had not or- 
dered. This was his ostensible errand, but he really came 
to look at the cheery little body who had been-to him, 
it might be, more than his own mother could or would 
have been ; he came to be happy in seeing her happy. If 
anyone congratulated her upon the son she had reared, 
she would reply, “ Humph !” but it was tremulous, “ Susan 
Thump only did her duty, and Samuel was good. If he 
had not been good Susan would have done her duty the 
same, but she could not have made him what he is 
now." 

In the long days which followed when Samuel was 
attending to his business, the maid performing the 
labors of the household, the flowers budding, blossoming 
and climbing, Susan was left much to her own thoughts, 
and as she knitted and rocked they sometimes ran like 
this : “ A father would grow old and look to me for care 
and comfort ; a brother would long ago have others to 
support, and I should be helping him to care for them ; a 
husband — Humph ! I never did believe in them, and I 
never knew but one man who would make a good hus- 
band. A son would have said, she is my mother and I 
must care for her. Blood does not bind Samuel to me, 
duty does not make him good to me. It is love and 
gratitude. I am the happiest mother in the kingdom. 
Susan Thump did her duty and Susan Thump has been 
rewarded." Then would follow a recounting to herself 
of the alarm, the hurry, the awe at the sight. The leap 
up the ladder, the step — she never could remember how 
she came down, it seemed but one step. The half dead 
child soothed from its fright, healed of its wounds, coaxed 
and petted till it saw there was a lone 'heart that needed 


II2 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


it, a pair of arms outstretched to it, and a home for it here 
on earth. The christening and adoption, the cake and 
the mild beverage that moistened it, the words of the Rev. 
Peerie, “ As pure as the crystal drops ” — and his life had 
been as pure, she knew, as mortal’s could be. The past 
brought not a shadow, the present was fairest sunshine, 
but the thought of the future deepened the lines, filled 
the eyes and made the knitting needles click sharply. She 
could not expect him to always find in her what his heart 
demanded. He had grown very thoughtful of late — yes, 
the clear sky was hazy now and then, and she watched 
him when he did not know it. He had many friends 
but they were not known to her. Not that he was 
ashamed of his mother or his home. No, indeed ! but 
they were not near, and were young people of more pre- 
tentions than th‘e Lunleys, so she had not met them. 
There was one she knew could make him happy and 
herself too ; but Samuel had high notions, though good 
sense with them, so she did not dare hope for that. 
Sometimes the flowers seemed to nod tauntingly at her, 
as if to say, “ We are old-fashioned marigolds, larkspurs, 
and china-asters. How long do you think a pretty young 
mistress would let us blossom here 1 How long before the 
sun would be burning our roots instead of opening our 
petals ?” So Susan was troubled, but did not let Samuel 
know it. Sometimes she would toss her head and say. 
Humph ! if she don’t like me and 1 don’t iike her, I 
can move back ‘and live by myself. I’m not poor, and 
many a door would open to Susan Thump, if she did not 
want to live alone.” 

But Samuel never suspected these forebodings of 
■Mother Susan, for when her heart grew too heavy, she 
donned shawl, bonnet, and gloves, and paid either a social 
call or carried some of the many garments that she made 
to the needy ones she knew were waiting for them. Then 
the clouds parted and the sky soon wore the clearest 
blue. There was work to do, and she was happy again. 
The hungry to feed, the cold to warm, the sick to nurse ; 
and she with time, strength, and means to do all this, 
what right had she to murmur.? 

And so they had lived for nearly two years in the 


THE C 0 fT 4 GE IN LUNLEY LANE. 1 13 

pretty cottage. And were they both content.^ No. 
Happiness here is alloyed. Will the soul ever find it un- 
alloyed in the hereafter } Will there be longings and 
strivings, shadows to fear and regrets to torment, even 
when the soul has been tried and found fitted for the 
higher and nobler realms of spirit-life ? But the present 
and not the future was the all-important with Susan and 
Samuel. He Idnged for another in their home, and she 
feared every day lest he should say, “ Mother Susan, 
you have long had a son whom you have loved faithfully ; 
for his sake will you share that love with a daughter ?” 

But it came not, for Pride and Love were at strife. 
Pride said, “ Your face is fair, your breeding good. You 
do not know your birth, to be sure, but good blood must 
course through your veins, and — ” 

“And how do you know,” interrupted Love, “but 
just as good she may claim — it might be better,” it 
added slyly. 

“ But you run a risk,” said Pride ; “ there are those 
whom you are certain of. And now the Lane — let us 
talk of that. S. M. Thump, counsellor-at-law, Lunley 
Lane, is well enough ; but M. Thump, gentleman, Lun- 
ley Lane, will not do. You have a good income, and it 
increases ; you have a fair name, and every case shows it 
fairer and better known. Now, why not — ” 

“ Break up the pretty home, and break Mother Susan’s 
heart ?” broke in Love. 

Pride could not reply to this. 

Thus was Mr. Thump listening, the morning Meg 
called upon Susan, Mr, Trout upon Miss Ray, Joe and 
Isaac upon Mistress Boggs, and Susan, Isaac, Mr. Trout 
and Joe upon the blind man. Susan had called first ; she 
was never known to be too late in any matter whether 
grave or trivial, and in this she was never more seasona- 
ble, and for it the blind man and Rover will be thankful 
to the end of time. 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


1 14 


CHAPTER XVII. 

I NEVER 'OOKED UN IN LIKE 'eR.'* 

The little party avoided the larger streets, the busier 
thoroughfares. The walk was not a short one to the clear- 
sighted, but when one had no sight at all it was still longer, 
and thus gave time for much conversation, which did not 
displease Miss Thump. Yet by the time they had reached 
the morgue, and she had weighed the outgoings and in- 
comings, the former were far heavier; and although she 
had not been much questioned, the blind man had counted 
the milestones of her life upon his fingers, had recognized 
her as a woman of ready heart, willing hand, quick wit, a 
full share of curiosity and an absorbent love, not of self, 
but of her son Samuel. And in displaying this kindness 
of heart, this goodness of soul, this unselfish love, she was 
rearing another milestone, the largest, the fairest, that 
had yet marked her course in life’s journey. Its foun- 
dation nothing could ever move, for it was laid in love, 
cemented by a never-ending faith in a son and a daughter. 
Its steps, as it lifted itself to mark to the world its exist- 
ence, she would climb one by one, just as she had once 
climbed round by round for Samuel ; but now she would 
not descend, but climb on and on forever. 

This she was laying, but knew it not, neither did the 
blind man, neither did Rover, who often looked question- 
ingly at his master, who of course not seeing the look 
could not reply. Miss Thump saw it, and still suspicious 
of the whole canine race, and seeing no good reason why 
she should make an exception for this specimen of it, 
tossed her head with a ‘‘ Humph ! dogs should not be so 
prying,” to which Rover shook his head, nature having 
deprived him of the power to toss it, as if to reply, “ It’s 
not a birth, ma’m, or my master and I would not be in 
attendance. It’s not a marriage, for such he never attends 
either, and we don’t look like a wedding party. Since it 
is neither of the two, and you are with us, I say it must be 
a funeral.” 

Susan watched him closely because she did not dare 


“/ NEVER 'OOKED UN IN LIKE 'ERr I15 


do the same to the master ; there was an understanding 
between them that puzzled her. She felt a vague sense 
of being led and not leading, as was always her part, yet 
the guiding was not unpleasant, and so they kept on. 
When in sight of the morgue the master stopped sud- 
denly, the dog moved as if he would spring forward, the 
master checked him and checked himself also, but did 
not check Susan’s curiosity, which only increased when 
she saw a figure skulk along as near the building as it 
could get. Its being there annoyed the man, and yet 
why should it, if he could not see ? Sometimes he would 
hurry a little as if to overtake it ; and the stick he carried 
showed the excitement into which such a determination 
threw him, for it struck the paved way at all possible 
angles, and wavered even in doing this. 

The effect upon the string which held Rover to his 
master was not so perceptible, for he either partook of the 
nervousness largely and jerked the string himself, or he 
was anxious to bound away and follow his own inclina- 
tions in the matter — then he would move at so slow a 
pace that Miss Thump was several feet in the lead. She 
noted the figure and its effect upon the man and the dog. 
The first neared the morgue, then turned away ; drew 
nearer next time and passed by ; drew near again and 
entered. It came out wiping its forehead just as the last 
drew near also. Miss Thump pitied the figure. She 
thought it must be the hands were trembling from grief 
at some sad remembrance, and the handkerchief wiping 
away tears. 

She had told the blind man of her errand. He had 
heard that the river had given up the fair, but not the 
frail dead ; and in this he had felt only the interest and 
curiosity common to all. But the touching picture Susan 
drew of Meg’s visit to the water, and her anxiety that 
some token, however slight, should be given of the tender- 
ness the girl felt for the pure, sweet face that the muddy 
waters had laved for hours before its becoming the prize 
of Gaff and his father, visibly moved him. The old man 
said to the inspector with truth, “ She be sweet and clean, 
as if we’d found ’er on the green grass. I never ’ooked 
un in like ’er.” 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


n6 

And so leaving Rover without to watch, the two 
entered with a little group of women, sent there by idle 
curiosity. 

The women gazed first, and, hardened as they were 
to such sights in the dead-house, their aprons were lifted 
to wipe away the tears that made clean paths down their 
grimed faces. 

“ I ken count ’em by tens,” said one, “ as I’ve seen 
in this same dead- ’us, but I ’ope never again, to see one 
like that a layin’ there.” 

“ She looks as if she’d speak,” said another. 

“ And a thousand pities she can’t. She’d tell on some 
o’ the big folks, I knows.” 

“ Mebbe not. I see a man as was ’ere yesterday and 
looked, and come to day and looked, and shook, too, when 
he looked,” remarked a third. 

The blind man heard this, Susan heard it. Rover did 
not hear it, but he growled ominously, either from sus- 
picion or because he found actual cause. However, it made 
the master uneasy, and he asked Miss Thump if she 
would be kind enough to see what troubled the dog. He 
ran the risk of incurring her displeasure, but there being 
no one else about, it was his only chance, and must be 
availed of. The figure drawn into, and expelled from 
the presence here, had so excited his suspicions that he 
said at once to himself, “ Neither chance nor Miss 
Thump led me here.” 

As she turned to look at the dog without he turned 
and looked at the form within. He saw the face — he 
groped for support, for the room grew dark and things 
seemed sinking away from him ; he caught at the railing, 
and held it with iron grasp. This effort revived him, 
and he looked again. There was no mistaking those 
clear cut features, the brow, the hair, the hand ; as vision 
became clearer he looked more closely, and his hand 
would have crushed the railing, so powerful again grew 
its grasp, if it had not been so hard that no human hand, 
alone, could move it. His breath he held ; his lips parted 
and closed after a moment with a low cry. It seemed 
to him that it filled the whole world, so deeply did it 
find an echo in his heart and he was frightened lest he 


“7 NEVER 'OOKED UN IN LIKE 'ERE II^ 

had betrayed himself. So drawing the dismal green 
things again over his eyes, he awaited Susan. 

“ Humph !” said she, “ he’s an uneasy dog. Just like 
all dogs, though. They fuss and fuss,^nd never know 
any more than he does what they’re fussing about.” 

This was so low that no one heard it. For the blind 
man, with his quickened sense of hearing was listening to 
his own heart-throbs — throbs that told of defeat, anguish, 
revenge, and murniuring at the injustice of such defeat, 
then hope that it might be some other he had seen ; the 
next throb was louder and quicker and crushed the hope, 
for the dimple was surely upon the face. No two of the 
throbs were alike and no two for the same emotion — the 
heart and its owner re-lived years in those few moments. 

Miss Thump approached ; the man did not question 
her concerning the dog, and she did not deem it a suit- 
able subject to introduce herself. So she drew aside her 
veil and looked upon one whom even the waters had 
recognized as too innocent, too pure for them to hold ; 
but they had brought her to the surface when there was 
none to see but the old man, Galf, and the few stars 
whose beams struggled through the misty air to show 
that they were not ashamed to throw their feeble light 
about her. 

The river’s impurities had refused to cling even to 
her garments, they had passed on to some fitter subject. 
So Susan looked in silence, and, as a stranger passed 
near and gazed with -unfeeling curiosity, she began to 
draw forth Meg’s handkerchief as if to shield the face 
already. But the next moment she was alone again; and 
folding the delicate fabric, she was about to place it in 
the box, when a tear fell — from thy eye and from thy 
heart, good Susan — upon one corner. Brushing it away 
she felt something raised upon its threads, and looking 
closely beheld M. R. traced in embroidery with such 
stitches as would suit the web-like substance. 

The blind man saw, but the heart did not throb : it 
bounded and leaped, as if it would break its bonds, but 
its owner must be still — and blind. 

“Humph!” said she, turning to him, “somebody 
would steal this handkerchief. Does Meg think, poor 


ii8 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


child, that they would have feeling enough to let it go 
with her ? And the flowers too ? Why somebody here 
would have ’em in the buttonhole of their coat before I’d 
been gone long. No, I don’t see but one way to save 
’em, and if you will wait here, mister. I’ll go to the office 
and see if they are civil folks. You see how it is, there’s 
no other way to keep ^em in the coffin with her. Folks 
will steal — and then — Samuel might have been born a girl, 
and I should have thought it a hard world, if somebody 
could’nt have arranged it so that the handkerchief and 
the flowers would be sure to go too. If this had hap- 
pened to my daughter, to my Samuel born a girl, you 
know, sir, what I mean — and — and — ” But a great sob 
smothered what would have followed the “and.” Susan 
covered her eyes with her own less slender threaded hand- 
kerchief, drew her veil, and would not have mourned less 
heartily if Samuel had lain there. Then, with characteris- 
tic energy, she looked up after a few moments saying, 
“ Humph ! there is no use in this ; I’ll go and see if 
they’re civil.” 

The little curl of gray was straightened with moisture, 
the handkerchief was rumpled and wet. She shook it 
out, and folded it as she left the master near the dead, 
the dog at the door, and passed into the office adjoining 
the morgue. 


CHAPTER XVIH. 

WHAT CAME OF MISS THUMP’s FINDING THE OFFICIALS 
CIVIL. 

The Lane stood aghast. 

Miss Thump had been seen walking hurriedly along 
an hour before accompanied by the mendicant and his 
dog. Mr. Thump had also been seen close upon the 
same hour walking along apparently to his noonday meal. 
To be sure, Miss Thump had told one of the Lane that 
morning that her son was suffering from headache ; and 
as this fact, trivial in its start, became known, it was aug 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY, 


II9 

mented to apoplexy, to heart disease, to congestion, to 
a thousand and one things in a few moments after the 
symbols of mourning appeared upon the cottage of Susan 
and Samuel. 

The Lane could never eat till it knew the truth, so it 
appeared singly and in groups, with bonnets and without. 
To its anxious inquiry Susan appeared. Many had often 
wondered how she, who always conducted the sad prep- 
arations for others, would appear when she had to see 
another in her place ; but that was not thought of now. 
The Lane had a heart, and a kind one, too; and it had 
always loved Susan Thump, for she had loved the Lane ; 
and now it was hers in sorrow and affliction. There 
must be sorrow, it reasoned, or there would be no sym- 
bols without to show that the voice of the passer-by might 
be hushed with propriety, and his step softened in respect. 

When Susan appeared, and Samuel also, the Lane was 
still more perplexed ; yet it breathed more freely when it 
discovered that the signs of death were for neither. But 
with unabated curiosity it listened while Susan read the 
“ Found Drowned,” etc., from the Daily Bee, and added, 
“ I went to lay a few flowers in her hand, and throw some- 
thing over her face, if nobody claimed her, and I knew 
some one would steal both ; and I thought if Samuel had 
been born a girl — and so — ” Her voice choked, the lump 
in her throat grew and would dissolve only in tears ; so 
the Lane heard no more, but it was content. “It was 
just like Susan Thump,” it said, and asked softly, “ What 
hour.?” 

“ Four o’clock,” said Samuel, “ and we will be glad 
to have you show respect also to the unknown and un- 
claimed. The Rev. Josiah Peerie will be here.” 

As the Lane turned back to finish its half-eaten dinner, 
relate the news and don its best before four o’clock, it saw, 
turning the corner of the Wilton, a peaked hat, short coat, 
velvet shorts, black stockings and pointed shoes, and be- 
neath and within all these was Isaac Harold. He heeded 
not the Lane, and the Lane, thinking him a mere passer 
through, heeded not him. He walked directly toward 
the cottage, gently undid the latch, closed the gate, 
stepped softly along the path upon- the porch, lifted the 


120 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


knocker with respectful firmness, let it drop and awaited 
a reply. The maid came, Miss Thump was desired. A 
“ Come in ; I will call her,.” and Isaac Harold sat down 
in the cozy parlor of No. 8 Lunley Lane. 

When Miss Thump appeared, which she did directly 
— she never lost time, which promptness raised her still 
higher in the estimation of her visitor, for where there was 
so much to do, who could afford to waste time ? — he 
bowed low with his hat under his arm, and his body so 
much inclined one who knew him well would have said 
he was about to “ straighten out.” But he knew what to 
do and what not to do. The what to do was to make 
known as concisely and clearly as possible the object of 
his visit. The what not to do was to leave no clue by 
which Miss Thump should know by whom he was sent. 
Both of these he performed to the letter. After this 
bending of his flexible body, and remaining bent for some 
seconds, he straightened as other people would, not in 
somersaults, but stood erect. And so quickly did he come 
to a perpendicular, that anybody else would have been 
thrown off an equilibrium. But that was a hard matter to 
succeed with upon Isaac Harold— for mentally and physi- 
cally he had long been, through trouble, off the even bal- 
ance ; morally and spiritually he was well poised. So, 
though he came up suddenly, he stood firmly, took his 
hat from under his arm, thrust the fist of one hand into 
its peak, as if desirous of preserving well its contour, and 
said, “This is Miss Thump, ma’m, is it ?” 

Miss Thump replied, “ It is Miss Susan Thump.” 

Whenever she met a stranger, she was always particu- 
lar that Susan should be boldly inserted between the Miss 
and the Thump, lest this Miss might be mistaken for an 
abbreviated Mrs. 

“Yes,” returned the Little Man, drawing from his 
pocket a small parcel; “I beg your pardon, ma’m,” 
‘Miss Susan Thump, No. 8 Lunley Lane,’” and he 
handed it to her as he read its address. 

“ You will be kind enough to accept this, and ask me 
no questions, for what is in it is none of my business, and 
who sent it is none of yours, ma’m. I do not mean to be 
rude, but it is only the truth, it is none of your business. 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY. 121 

If anybody wants to be kind, do let him be kind without 
prying him out. There’s more folks, I find, ma’m, that 
don’t want to be kind than that do, so those that do and 
want to be sly about it, just let ’em alone. 

“For myself, ma’m, I’m a gatherer. If you should 
e^er have any cast-off, or should ever need any to cast 
on to somebody who feels cold when it is frosty, and wet 
when it is rainy, leave word with the poor blind man and 
his dog who beg at the corner. They know me profes- 
sionally, that is, as a gatherer; they know I pass their way 
often, so we help each other — we both gather — he what 
people can spare, and I what they don’t need. That is 
who I am, ma’m ; and as I say good day, might I ask if 
you object if I come to hear the prayer when it is time ? 
I won’t trouble you to decide at once, ma’m, but I will 
make so bold as to come to the door, and if you object 
the maid will tell me, and I will pass right on. There’s 
so much to do in this world, and so little time to do it, 
that one is always in a hurry ; so I will say good day again 
and be gone.” 

And he was gone before Susan could reply. The 
windows, of course, were .well shaded inside and out on 
this occasion. So it required some deft fingering to be 
able to see out without exposing herself to the gaze of 
any passer-by. Therefore, by the time she had made an 
opening the Little Man was hurrying around the corner. 
So she turned back to the room, turned over the parcel, 
held it up to the light, pinched it, wondered what it 
could be, then took a pin from her dress, and began 
tearing it in the raggedest, jaggedest tears that one of her 
sex could, till she found a small box : the lid she took off, 
an’d two notes she took out, one was written, the other 
was not written, but its face testified that its value was 
twenty pounds. Bank of England. “ Humph !” said she 
to herself, “ did anyone ever know Susan Thump to be 
bought ?” and the cap-ties fluttered with indignation. She 
was hurrying off to seek Samuel, when she thought of the 
other that was not a twenty-pound note, but was no doubt, 
in its way just as valuable, for it would tell what its com- 
panion could not — it would tell what it was sent for. With 
outraged feeling a little mollified, and yet with a toss of 


122 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


the head which meant “Susan Thump never undertakes 
to do a thing that she don’t see the end of before she 
makes a beginning — when she found the folks civil, she 
saw the end and didn’t want anybody’s help to see it 
either” — she opened the other : its face bore testimony 
to the following, in a bold, manly hand : 

“ Charity does not send this, for the writer knows it 
is not needed. He only asks that it be used to beautify 
the grave with flowers, such as we know she must have 
loved, and which Miss Thump knows well to select ; and 
if anything can be laid with her — anything which would 
have been placed beside her if she had died at home, 
let this buy it. The flowers for the grave are to be grow- 
ing ones. Trusting Miss Thump will think it no intru- 
sion, I am, 

“One who Saw Her at the Morgue.” 

At first Miss Thump was not pleased ; somebody was 
interfering with her business, and that somebody was too 
sly about it. Such things did not suit her. She read it 
again. The writer loved flowers — and so did she. He was 
sorry for the friendless — and so was she. He had given 
without a name — she had many times left a basket at a 
door which she knew hid a bare cupboard and coalless 
grate from the world, for Pride forbids Charity an en- 
trance. Here was some one who had seen her, and per- 
haps thought her means limited, and took this way of 
helping her. 

So, through their mutual love for flowers, and sym- 
pathy for the suffering, Susan had been reconciled and 
softened toward the unknown donor of twenty pounds, 
Bank of England. She smoothed, folded, unfolded and 
tested its crispness, which said, “ I’m fresh and new. This 
is my first work, and may I be fortunate enough to be 
always in as good.” 

There was no time to lose. It was now much past 
noonday, and the services were to open at four — no later. 
Promptness and punctuality in all things! So she 
sought Samuel and told him of the Little Man, showed 
him both notes and said, “ What shall we do ?” 

“ It has been sent in delicacy and with goodness of 


M/SS THUMP'S DISCOVERY. 


123 


heart,” said he after he had read the letter. “ Shall we 
lay with her a cross and a crown, good Mother Susan ?” 

The lump came again, and she could not speak. 
Samuel saw the eyes fill, and turned to look for his hat. 
He knew a florist near by, and would order them at once. 
As he passed out of the room he heard her say — the lump 
was melting, so that she could speak, — “ Samuel always 
knows just what to do. Meg will be so pleased. It’s as 
much for her sake, as for saving the handkerchief and 
the flowers.” 

“ Meg will be so pleased,” said the street door as he 
closed it softly. 

“ Meg will be so pleased,” said the latch as it clicked 
back to its catch on the gate. 

“ Meg will be so pleased,” said the flowers through 
the fragrance they sent forth, as he saw them cut from 
their bushes. They were put into skilful fingers, and 
would be ready in less than an hour, the florist assured 
him. 

“ Meg will be so pleased when they come,” said he, 
as he turned toward the office to say to Mr. Trout that 
he should not attend to business that afternoon, and why 
he should not. 

Mr. Trout listened, expressed some sympathy for the 
unknown, but none for Miss Thump’s whims, as he called 
her odd ways of satisfying the needs of the friendless. 

“ Very well,” replied Mr. Thump, “ if they are whims, 
they are those of mature years, and they shall be gratified. 
I had whims in babyhood, childhood, and boyhood, which 
were of no use to anybody when complied with, and yet 
she never made light of them, but bore with them more 
patiently, perhaps, than an own mother would have done. 
I owe her what I can never repay, and all her whims 
shall be my whims. If you will, I shall be glad to have 
you come at four o’clock, and see how she enjoys — 
although it is a sad enjoyment — doing for this unfortu- 
nate sister what no one else would.” 

Mr. Trout, as his partner expected he would, and was 
perfectly satisfied he should do, pleaded a business en- 
gagement. Nothing was worth doing, in his estimation, 
unless it had value in pounds and pence. 


J24 


THUMP^S CLIENT, 


When Miss Thump turned from the dead and the 
master and his dog, she entered the office and found its 
inmates civil enough to tell her that all efforts at identifi- 
cation of the body had been of no avail, and that as the 
place it filled would no doubt be needed, and the time 
for inspection had expired, the Potter’s Field must that 
day receive it. 

She told them she would take it and see that it was 
laid next her own. At this there was, of course, some 
surprise expressed, and some hesitation to comply, for 
it aroused curiosity and suspicion, lest she might be the 
ageift of some interested person who would thus, for his 
own reasons, seek to close quickly as possible all avenues 
to identification. The request was so unusual and — must 
we record it } — so unnatural, that it is no wonder there 
was much consultation of the officials, several journeys 
made by a messenger to some other in greater authority, 
many questions put to Miss Thump, which received such 
frank replies that they were impressed with their truth, 
and her goodness of heart. Her son’s name was given as 
reference, and as they knew him, that aided her cause. 
At last the paper was filled where blanks had been left ; 
the city was to give to the citizen, the public to the private. 
It needed her signature ; she wrote without tremor, “ Miss 
Susan Thump.” The official, in sealing with the Great 
Seal of State, saw the ‘ Miss,’ and looked up questioningly. 
She saw it, and going to the wall placed her finger upon 
one of many clippings from papers — the accumulation of 
years. It" was from the Daily Bee, and in large capitals 
was headed, “ Daring Exploit, by Susan Thump.” 

“ It is enough,” said he, “ let me shake your hand. 
You are Susan Thump, and Samuel Thump is that child. 
The paper is yellow and worn, but the rescue I well 
remember. I saw it myself. I am proud to shake you 
by the hand. I do not now wonder that you want to 
give her a burial such as she deserves,” and he pointed 
toward the room she had left. Miss Thump said little 
in reply. “ Bread cast upon the waters” was ever return- 
ing to her in the most unexpected way. But thanking him 
for offers of assistance which he warmly made, she hur- 
ried out. The blind man would wait, and the dog Rover 


• MISS THUMBS DISCOVERY, 


125 


would watch at the near corner, till she could return from 
a visit to Wreckers Court, not far distant, but nearer the 
water ; so she told the master that they were civil at the 
office, and that she should at once make arrangements 
for the safety of the handkerchief and the flowers. 

The Wreckers, like the Lunleys, all knew Miss 
Thump, and many a narrow, dim pane was tapped on 
from within as she passed by without. She had nursed 
and fed, clothed and warmed many a Wrecker. She nod- 
ded to the panes, little heeding who was behind them, 
anxious was she to reach the neatest and most whole- 
some of all the dwellings in the Court — the home of 
Martha Hamper — “ Miss Martha,” as Susan usually called 
her. She knocked and Martha opened ; her hand was 
quickly extended and warmly grasped. 

“ Why, Miss Thump, how do you do ? So glad to 
see you. Come in ! come in !” and the hostess drew her 
visitor in, closed the door, and pulled a large chair from 
the corner — the chair in which she had mended and 
planned, and in which Meg had dreamed and read — one 
of those homely, comforting chairs, suited alike to young 
and old, prosy and poetical, tired and lazy ; its arms 
always extended, its heart always tender and sympathetic. 
There is a world of comfort in such a chair ! 

Miss Thump, tired with the hurry, the anxiety, the ex- 
citement, sank into it and rested, but not long. 

Miss Martha approached her, as if she would untie 
her bonnet ; but Miss Susan shook her hand, and the host- 
ess desisted. 

“I want your help, Martha,” at last said the visitor 
when breathing became more natural. “You know the 
young girl that Meg saw in the water 

“Yes,” replied Martha quickly. She feared Susan 
might add, “ The one your brother pulled in.” The 
business of her brother and Gaff was very distasteful to 
her, and she avoided allusion to it whenever it was pos- 
sible to foresee such. 

“Yes ; Meg told me of her, and grieved as if it had 
been one of her own.” 

“ And which looks enough like her to be. Miss Martha, 
that’s just why I came for you. And finding the folks at 


126 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


the dead-house civil, I asked ’em for her. I said I’d 
put a handkerchief over her face and flowers in her hand 
— that’s what I told Meg, she cried so, poor child ! 
And when I got there and thought maybe they’d steal 
’em and hurry her into a box without ’em, I thought I’d 
stay and see that it was all right. But the more I looked 
at her, the more I thought I saw Meg there ; and — Humph ! 
I’m so silly, Martha ! — But I can tell you, I cried, and 
went and asked for her to give her a burying — a decent 
burying. Then I said to myself, ‘Susan Thump, you’re 
foolish ; do you expect to give buryings to all that you 
feel sorry for ? She don’t look like Meg. Give her the 
flowers and the handkerchief, and go home.’ Then I 
would think, ‘ What if Samuel had been born a girl ’ — and 
that broke me down, Martha. I got leave to take het — 
See here,” and she showed the paper stamped with the 
official stamp, and sealed with the Great Seal of State. 

“You know how they are when they are out of the 
water, so she must be buried to-day. I own enough next 
to my uncle to lay in myself, but I’m going to give it to 
her, Martha, and Samuel will care for me when I go.” 

“ If he shouldn’t,” said Martha, “ there’s folks enough 
who would. You’ve seen too many laid decently away not 
to be put away so yourself ; but I hope you ain’t going to 
need putting away for many a year yet. Did you leave 
Meg at your house 1 The girl grieves, and I don’t know 
what to say comforting. She’s nigh eighteen, and ought 
to know who she is. The money we found tied around 
her is getting lower every year. It’s given her learning 
and clothes, but it can’t tell her who she is. I’ve been 
dreaming, and dreaming so much about her mother o’ 
late, that I think of her all day. Jane was alive when 
my brother found her, and I didn’t know much about 
the business then, and besides, it was the first one they 
found, so I don’t know how she looked. But I’ve seen 
a face in my dreams that I’d know, if I saw it when I 
was awake.” 

And while Martha Hamper was saying this, she was 
removing the long apron she wore, mot because it was 
soiled — for dirt and dust and Martha never dwelt together 
— but because it was not so smooth, as the one which 


MISS THUMP'S DISCO VHP V. 12/ 

replaced it. She was tying a clean white kerchief about 
her neck, and a plain but tasty bonnet, for Meg had made 
it, upon her head. She knew Miss Thump needed her 
help, and did not wait to be told of it. Many a limb 
they had together straightened, many hands folded and 
many eyes gently closed, and had sometimes wondered 
which would be left to do the same kind office for the 
other. 

As she straightened this chair, and pulled that curtain 
— mothingmust be left awry — she continued, “ I saw Meg 
this morning with her mother’s handkerchief, and if that’s 
the one she gave you to put over the dead girl’s face, take 
my advice, Susan Thump, and keep it or give it back. 
It will be of use some day, you see if it ain’t. I’ve got 
everything she wore when my brother found her. You 
know he brought her to me, because Jane went out in 
the boat with him so much, and they could take Gaff ; 
but this little thing was too tender, so I had her, and 
when Jane died I came to live here, and, of course, she 
came too. I’m ready now.” And she took up a basket 
that was always ready too. 

It contained all things necessary for preparing the 
helpless, lifeless mortal to make its last appearance be- 
fore the tear-dimmed eyes of the loved ones, and the criti- 
cal gaze of the stranger whom curiosity might lead to 
it. Miss Thump assured Miss Hamper that she should 
retain the handkerchief, and thought Meg would be will- 
ing she should when she knew what was to be done. So 
the two passed out of the house, and as they passed out 
of the Court, the Wreckers said, ‘‘ Miss Susan went there 
in a hurry, and Miss Martha is going away with her in a 
hurry; it must be a bad case.” 

But none dared to ask whose the case might be. For 
when on professional errands neither woman lost one 
moment, and if anyone asked of them, the reply brought 
no information. The Wreckers knew this, and could only 
watch and wonder till the return. 

'They turned from the Court and from the water, till 
they reached a larger street — but a dingier house whose 
wind-beaten and rain-worn sign showed that the man who 
dwelt within held the commanding and, in its latter 


128 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


half, appropriate name of Gregory Layem, and also, that 
he was prepared, from the little shop within, to furnish 
all things necessary for the last laying out, and for the 
last enclosing of the laid out. His face was long; his 
voice, which he called mournful, a disinterested person 
would call whining, and his head was ever shaking when 
a customer came, as if it meant, “It is sad; it is sad.” 
Mr. Gregory Layem knew both, and expected an order at 
once. And in this he was not wrong. Miss Thump 
stated briefly what she wanted, and then consulted him 
and Miss Hamper upon the removal from the morgue. 
It was decided to have her brought at once there, pre- 
pared properly, with the assistance of Mr. Layem, and at 
the hour for service be taken to the home in Lunley Lane. 
A robe of pure white was chosen, a coffin plain but neat, 
and with silver enough to show that the occupant was 
thought worthy of all that one of her own family would 
have had. 

So, Miss Thump and Gregory Layem, with a convey- 
ance ordered to follow, went to the morgue, and show- 
ing the paper with its seal, claimed the dead of the keeper. 
The conveyance claimed it too. Mr. Layem accompanied 
the conveyance, and Miss Thump stopped to tell the 
blind man what would detain her awhile. 

As the streets were strange to him, he told her he 
should be compelled to wait her return for guidance home. 
She looked inquiringly at Rover, but he gave no assur- 
ance that he knew the way back, and she told the master 
she would corne that way when her work was done. 

And Maria was tenderly, tearfully prepared for the 
last repose. Stranger hands can be loving; stranger 
hearts can be touched, when friendless and unknown, 
young and beautiful, the mortal part of the immortal is 
laid upon them. 

The contents of Martha’s basket was found invaluable. 
They had ordered a softer and more delicate pillow, and 
while Mr. Layem was making this and some other changes 
about the coffin in the little shop below. Miss Thump and 
Miss Hamper were preparing by laving and dressing the 
body in the parlor above. There was no Mrs. Layem to 
interfere. Mr. Layem told them, when he could think of 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY, 


129 


nothing else to say, that this was one of the many occa- 
sions when he saw how much a wife was needed to assist 
him. They did not agree with him as to this particular 
occasion, but knowing he had made many attempts to 
fill this vacancy in his home, and had been as many times 
refused, they gave no sign of comfort, when he added, “ I 
shall find her yet, and she will be all the better if I have 
to look awhile.” Yes, poor Gregory, you may find her, and 
when you do, wish you never had been born. Such 
things have been, and to a soft, simple nature like yours, 
it is likely such will be your fate. 

When Maria was ready for burial and had clasped 
the flowers Susan brought, clasped them in her icy fingers, 
and been laid so that her head was slightly turned upon 
the satin cushion to hide some marks left by contact 
with the boat or something else floating against her, they 
all three stood silently by and looked upon her. 

Suddenly Martha said, “ Miss Thump, all ain’t right 
about this girl. She looks like the one that comes to me, 
and yet she don’t look like her. But now see if I ain’t 
right when I say, whatever put one in the river put the 
other one there too, and I hope and pray it won’t put Meg 
there also. I’ll gather up these things and wash ’em 
clean, though they’re cleaner now than most folks put on 
fresh — and we’ll look ’em well over and see if we can find 
any marks anywhere. Look at her, Susan, her face has 
changed again. Don’t she look like Meg ?” and Martha 
who was so prosy and practical naturally had become a 
dreamer and fancier of likeness between living and dead. 

Miss Thump looked closely, with her head on one 
side then on the other, and said, “ There’s one thing 
looks like Meg, but it’s on the cheek that’s turned to the 
pillow, and I am glad, for I don’t want Meg to see it ; 
she’s full of notions enough now that worry her.” 

“ Just so, I think,” said Martha, “ and if a body could 
only comfort her.” 

“ Yes,” returned Susan, “she gives comfort to others; 
a pity she can’t have it, too.” 

“ She will some day get what she deserves, I know. 
But how she’s going to do it I can’t tell,” replied Martha, 
with the air of a prophetess. 


130 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“ But we can’t waste time, Miss Martha, now our work 
is done. I hope you haven’t hurt your back lifting her. 
I had so much on my mind, I forgot to ask you how it’s 
getting along since you tried the new Pain Stayer. Does 
it make the pain stay away or stay with you .? I never 
knew which the name meant.” 

“ It means both, for sometimes it stays and sometimes 
it goes. I am getting old, and before I know it, Susan, 
will be laying like that, with you and Meg to do for me, 
what we’ve just done for her,” and Martha pointed sadly, 
and looked almost wistfully at the still sleeper. 

“ No, no, Martha, don’t talk so, we must be going. 
Come,” and Susan laid her hand gently on the arm of her 
friend, then turned to go to the shop, where Mr. Layem 
had already gone. There they completed the uncom- 
pleted arrangements — the hearse was to be plain, but not 
shabby, with three conveyances to follow. All to be at 
No. 8 Lunley Lane soon after three o’clock. And telling 
Mr. Layem his bill would be settled whenever he chose 
to present it, which prospect so delighted him that his 
voice suddenly lost its whine, his face grew shorter, and 
his head stopped shaking, “ It is sad, it is sad,” he bowed 
low while holding open the door to the street — the two 
after nodding adieu passed out. 

As they hurried along, for the time was short for per- 
sonal preparation, they saw Gaff’s father in conversation 
with a stranger to Martha, but not wholly so to Susan, for 
she recognized the figure that had crept before the blind 
man and herself, and that had gone into and come out of 
the morgue. The old man recognized them from a dis- 
tance ; the figure took flight and slunk away. 

The old man came to meet them, and when within 
“hailin’ distance,” as he would have called it, he grasped 
his hat, which was made for a larger head than his, and 
would have taken it off, so great was his respect for the 
little lady ‘who accompanied his sister, but it seemed to 
suddenly occur to him that he would not know what to 
do with it after it was off, so he abandoned the one at- 
tempt of his life to be the polished gentleman, and let go 
his hat and let go his hold upon what, if he had persevered 
in, would "have been of much benefit to him afterward 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY, 


131 

when he was by that fickle goddess fortune thrown among 
people who thought it quite the thing to do when a lady 
was before one. But he did, after he had heard their 
errand from Martha’s lips, what perhaps the cultivated 
might not do, he spoke from his heart and said, “ Lord 
bless ye. Miss Thump, I knowed she war too sweet and 
clean to be ’andled by ’em over at the dead-’us.” He 
knew Susan was displeased when too much lauded, so he 
said no more. 

Martha told him they must hurry, so all walked rap- 
idly on. He told them Meg was at home, not a little 
troubled at Miss Susan’s long stay, and still more so to 
find Martha absent too, as the neighbors had told her that 
they had gone together. 

“ She will be glad to hear the news I shall have for 
her,” said Martha. 

“ And you must all be within time,” came from Susan 
as she turned to leave them. “ Mr. Hamper, you will 
come V' 

Mr. Peleg Hamper assured her that he would, but 
made no further attempt to take off his hat, so without 
mortification at a second failure they separated. The 
brother and sister to Wreckers Court, where Meg, who had 
prepared their noonday meal, was watching anxiously 
their coming. The tidings put her heart at rest. 

“ Dear, good Mother Martha and Mother Susan, how 
can I ever thank you ?” and throwing her arms around 
Martha’s neck burst into tears. 

Miss Hamper let her cry just as long as she wanted 
to, stroked her head, but said not a word — she knew it 
would be of no use. And when the girl had satisfied her ^ 
heart she raised her head and said, with a sad smile, 

“ When you told me, the washing, washing of the water 
that I heard while I was looking for you, stopped, and I 
felt so glad to have it go away that I had to cry. And 
now, Mother Martha, here’s one, two, three big ones !”, 
Saying this she kissed Miss Hamper on each cheek and 
then on her lips. “ I must give the same to Mother Su- 
san, and I must not forget uncle, here’s one, two, three 
for him. Now we must eat and get ready.” 

So they hastily partook of Meg’s cooking — she and 


132 


THUMP’S CLIENT 


Martha put the room in order — and then began the dress- 
ing. Peleg was first attended to. His white shirt and 
dickey were taken by Martha from a box which she rarely 
opened, except when she bleached the contents thereof, 
lest time should yellow them beyond reparation, so seldom 
were they called upon for active service. Fortunately, 
they had just received their season’s whitening, glossing, 
and ironing, and so were looked upon by Martha with 
much pride, by Peleg with dread, and by Meg with a sus- 
picion that it might be a matter of some doubt whether 
when uncle’s toilet was made, he might not rebel and after 
all appear in his easy every-day clothes. However, he 
took them, and without a word passed into a small room 
adjoining, which he and Gaff occupied for so much of 
the night as they might be on land, and so much of the 
day as was needful for rest and sleep. 

Martha and Meg had a larger apartment on the other 
side of the living room, made into two by a curtain drawn 
through it, and to this they retired. 

Peleg, as might be expected, made a few strokes with 
his arms and legs as if each one of them was an oar, and 
he was ready. Meg having promised to adjust his dickey 
and kerchief, he made no further attempt, nor even looked 
in the little remnant of a mirror which was caught by one 
of its jagged sides upon the wall. He sat down in the 
large room as uncomfortable as a man could be within 
starched linen, a broadcloth coat, and corduroy breeches. 
The first two belonged to the wear of the gentry, the last 
to that of the tradesman, and the boots which encased 
feet of ample proportions, to that of Peleg Hamper, being 
the only part of his wardrobe in keeping with the man. 

Meg soon came out looking at home in her best, for it 
was more natural she should be in that. Her dress was 
black, of her own make, neat, and fitting perfectly. She 
had taken the pretty bright flowers from her bonnet, and 
in their stead was a black rosette. A white collar was con- 
fined at the throat by a bit of black ribbon gracefully 
knotted. Her face was pale, and Peleg thought her eyes 
a little wet with recent tears. She saw at a glance that 
uncle was ill at ease, but determined not to let him see 
that his discomfort was apparent, so she took up the wait- 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY, 


133 


ing dickey and black silk kerchief, gave the former a few 
bends here and there, the latter more than a few folds 
diagonally, for it was of generous size, smoothed his ear- 
locks back, buttoned the dickey on the rear button, tied 
it in front with the tape strings, all of which intricate 
fastenings were soon concealed by the great kerchief 
which, had Peleg been a small man, might have looked to 
an ordinary observer as if it threatened to conceal him 
also. But it concealed only so much of him as was cov- 
ered by going around his neck twice, and what was then 
left gathered in a large bow, which was its only redeem 
ing feature, for Meg had tied it. As this was completed 
Martha appeared in a shiny bombazine, with leg-o’-mut- 
ton sleeves, a white kerchief, a little coarse perhaps for 
the use it was put to, but fresh and folded in clean, clear 
folds about her neck ; a pair of black mits closed at the 
fingers like gloves — the cotton threads in them began to 
assert themselves in places, and they would have been 
called by the critical somewhat rusty ; a black dunstable, 
the gift of Meg, with a ribbon of the same color drawn in 
folds across its crown, and ending in strings which were 
fluttering about, waiting for Meg’s deft fingers to confine 
them under her chin. This done, she took an umbrella, a 
shade on the green, in one hand, and a square folded 
handkerchief in the other. 

All being now ready, they stepped out, Martha and 
Meg first. And as Peleg saw their backs fairly upon 
him, he threw his head as near one shoulder as he could, 
and then as near the other. This was a timely relief, for 
the dicky was of the type known as standing ; and so well 
and stiffly did it stand, that its smoothly ironed edge 
threatened, at least partial amputation to the wearer’s 
ears. But this sly movement of the head crushed it, and 
crushed its hopes also. So with more ease he turned the 
key, which he took to the next-door neighbor’s for Gaff, if 
he should return from fishing before they came. 

- The eyes of the Wreckers were upon them as they left 
the Court. And poor Peleg Hamper felt that the eyes 
of all London were upon him as they jkssed through the 
larger streets, and he suggested to the ladies that it would 
look much better if they entered Lunley Lane in a fly. 


134 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


And without waiting for remonstrance at such an uncalled 
for expense, he hailed the driver of one, gave hurriedly 
the direction, and they all disappeared within. 

While all that we have above recorded was transpir- 
ing, Susan had called for the mendicant and his dog, 
and told them what had occurred, as they walked some- 
what hurriedly to the Lane. The man accompanied her 
to the gate, for, as he had accepted her invitation to 
come at four o’clock to the cottage, he said Rover must 
know just where she lived, that he might lead him there. 
So Rover scented the way under directions from his mas- 
ter, and they left Susan at the gate. Samuel soon came 
home, and she briefly told him what she had done, and 
what she was going to do. It was as she expected it 
would be : he did not object, but at once hastened out 
to engage the attendance of the Rev. Josiah Peerie, who 
after much clearing of the clerical throat, many thrust- 
ings in and out- of the left hand between the fourth and 
the fifth fastening from the top of his closely-buttoned 
coat, while with his. right hand he now and then 
smoothed back the long sleek locks which were brushed 
without parting from his forehead and fell in oily bunches 
upon his collar, expressed surprise that Miss Thump had 
not consulted him upon the propriety of giving Christian 
burial to one about whom there rested doubt and sus- 
picion. 

“ The doubt,” replied Samuel, hurt by this hesitation 
upon the part of a professed servant of Him who came to 
the friendless, and found none so lowly that He could not 
stretch forth His hands in blessing — “ the doubt, is no 
doubt that she was a pure innocent girl. And the sus- 
picion is that she was far from deserving the death she 
met, probably through the wickedness of others. It is 
supposed from her clothing -that she was not a resident 
of London, and that may be the reason why she is un- 
claimed. Time is slipping fast,” continued he, taking 
out his watch ; “ if I can find no one who is willing to read 
the service, I shall then do it myself. It is matter of lit- 
tle moment to the dead girl whether any be read — she is 
beyond caring for that. But death demands of us all 
tribute ; we never let him take our friends without paying 


MISS THUMP'S DISCOVERY. 


135 


respect to all that he has left us of them. We need no 
eulogy for this one, only a laying quietly away with a 
prayer,” and he awaited a reply. 

It came. 

“ As Miss Thump has always been a most exemplary 
and consistent member of the Church of the Sinner, of 
which I am the unworthy servant, I cannot see how I can 
refuse her request, though if it lead to remark, I must be 
held innocent.” 

“ Innocent of what ?” asked Mr. Thump in surprise. 
“ Innocent of being what you profess — a Christian minis- 
ter ?” he would have said, but forebore for sake of 
Mother Susan, whom he knew would be disappointed 
if he placed aught in the way of his coming. 

“ Innocent of — of — ” and as the Rev. Peerie looked 
into the frank manly face of Samuel Thump, he seemed 
to shrink in his own estimation, for he saw there nothing 
reflected from his own face, or his own character, “ inno- 
cent of countenancing the life of the ungodly.” And 
after this he shrank still more, till he*dwindled from the 
character he had assumed before the world, into just 
what he was — a man of outward sanctity and inward 
nothingness, with no more. fitness for the great work he 
had undertaken, than any sleek, well fed — we forbear 
the likeness, lest some one may think us wanting in 
respect, which we beg leave to say we do not lack for the 
calling, but which we do lack for many who consider 
themselves “called.” And we may also add that there 
are too many to be found who are, after accepting the 
calling, so set in their own way of thinking, that neither 
coaxing nor beating, pelting nor pulling, will make them 
see a broader way, so narrow is their vision. 

Yes, there are many like you. Rev. Peerie, with 
your soft white hand toying in your cozy study with a 
pen you cannot wield, or with the silken tassels of your 
eider-padded gown — the gift of your fair lady parish- 
ioners. You read the beautiful service of the Church, 
but you do not know what it rneans. You preach of Him 
who said, “ Go ye into the by-ways, and compel them to 
come in.” But you do not go ; and when compelled to 
go, because you dare not refuse one who gives to contri- 


136 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


bution plates and pays promptly her pew-rent, you say 
you are innocent of the going, where you might drop seed 
which would bear fruit for your Master’s kingdom. But, 
thank God, there are many not like you. Rev. Peerie. 
Many who act their belief, who, like busy little Susan 
Thump, never say, “ Are you saint or sinner, godly or un- 
godly ?” but “ Can I do you good V' And all these parched 
tongues moistened, these hungry souls fed, what will they 
say, and how will they welcome their helpers, when the 
portals open and the active lover of Christ and all his 
children are bidden to enter in. 

But we have left Samuel Thump, who without com- 
ment left the Rev. Peerie, and hastened back to Mother 
Susan, saying simply, “ He will come.” 

The cross and the crown came; and soon after Maria 
was brought, and the casket which held her was laid 
upon the solid mahogany table with its large leaves, which 
Susan had owned ever since she could remember. The 
face was uncovered. It looked glad to be in the cottage, 
Susan thought, but* it might have been a reflection of the 
gladness from her heart, that since it must be, she could 
have it there. 

“ Let Meg lay the cross and crown upon her,” she 
said, and so they awaited her coming. 

One after another they came from the Lane, fol- 
lowed soon by Mr., Miss Hamper, and Meg ; Isaac, 
who was welcomed by Susan herself, the blind man and 
Rover, and lastly came, with book and gown, the Rev. 
Peerie. 

Meg, Martha, Susan, Peleg, and Samuel, just before 
his arrival, gathered about the coffin and tearfully looked 
upon the sweet face. Meg placed the cross and the 
crown, kissed her brow, and between the great heart sobs 
said to Susan, “ Do not put the handkerchief over her 
face, I want her to see it all. She will be so much hap- 
pier when she knows we cared for her. What a pity we 
had not found her before it was too late.” 

Susan could not reply, her heart was full, and Samuel 
taking Meg’s hand led her to a seat near by and calmed 
her, as of course he could. 

Mr. Hamper, forgetful of personal discomfort, looked 


M/SS THUMP^S DISCOVERY, 1 37 

also, and the great rough hand wiped from the bronzed 
cheek something — it must have been a tear. 

He knelt down after gazing a moment at the crossed 
hands and at the fingers which held Susan’s flowers, took 
from his pocket a long leathern purse which he always 
carried on land as well as on water, and reaching into it 
brought out several coins and a few trinkets, all of which 
he threw back after selecting something. He tied the 
purse with its leathern strings, twisted its mouth for better 
security, and put it back in his pocket.' 

The something he had selected was the ring from 
“ Henry to Maria.” 

“ I never meant to keep it,” said he, in a choked voice, 
if anybody ’ad a claimed ’er ; I only took it to keep it 
from them at the — ” And he stopped suddenly, as if he 
did not want the pure white presence before him to hear 
that she had been at the dead-house. Then, kneeling still 
beside her, he was about to take up the finger on which 
he found it, when a voice seemed to say, “ Show it first to 
them all; by it I may be known sometime.” So plainly 
did he hear it that he looked up at the dead face : the lips 
were like marble. He looked around the room, but no one 
there had spoken. As if led by an invisible power, he 
handed the ring to each one, saying, “ This war all there 
war. I’m goin’ to give it to ’er. Look at it, so ye ken 
swear to it.” 

They read in turn the inscription. The ring was plain 
and massive, and might have been a wedding-ring, so it 
had nothing to mark it from any other of its kind. Sam- 
uel was the last to read and examine it, which he did 
critically and handed it back to Mr. Hamper, who raised 
reverently the finger — it was too much swollen. He tried 
the next — on that the circle slipped as if it were in its 
home. 

“ I feel more like to a man now,” said he rising ; “ I 
give to ’er wot belonged to ’er.” 

After a few moments of silence, Samuel opened the 
door into the adjoining room, and those who were there 
passed in. And the Rev. Josiah Peerie found sitting in 
Miss Thump’s little parlor a simple-hearted, sad-heart- 
ed group : he read the service, vouchsafed no remarks. 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


138 

The people from the Lane looked upon her ; the blind 
man passed his hand over her face. Isaac Harold drew 
his cloak about his throat, clutched at its large pin, and 
under his breath muttered, “Curse him ! curse him !”' 

Mr, Layem, with crape upon his arm and crape upon 
his hat, closed the coffin ; it was borne out and into the 
waiting hearse. The three conveyances followed, con- 
taining the Rev. Josiah Peerie, Susan and Samuel, Meg 
and Martha, Isaac Harold, Mr. Hamper, the blind man 
and Rover. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MR. HAMPER VISITS JERICHO, WHERE TRAVELLERS STOP 
TO BE REFRESHED. 

The morning was foggy — in London most mornings 
are ; the ale was foamy — everywhere good ale is. But the 
fog showed no respect either to the desires of the trav- 
eller or the hostess, for it would hang just as dense over 
the sign, “This is Jericho ! Traveller, stop and be re- 
freshed," as it did over and around Peleg Hamper. 

■ And the possibility was fast becoming a probability 
that the traveller would miss the foamy ale and the host- 
ess the reckoning which his visit might bring, for he hav- 
ing never visited Jericho before, was as completely be- 
fogged concerning the exact place he was in as a dense 
fog could render him, and he began to plunge into this 
bank, then into that, with but little prospect of doing 
aught else or finding aught else. He did not know 
whether he was going forward or backward in his journey, 
for though the banks parted their misty curtains and let 
him in willingly enough, they closed at once behind him, 
and he had only to walk through into the next. He was 
neither poet, scientist, nor artist, so he did not feel the 
loss of any suggestions nature might make, or informa- 
tion she might give ; he only felt that the monotony of the 
fog-banks and uncertainty of locality was enough to make 


MR. HAMPER VISITS JERICHO. 1 39 

a man draw in sail and wait for wind or sun to dispel the 
fog and show him the locality. 

There was an unusually heavy bank just ahead, and 
he decided to emerge from that before he anchored. And 
well that he did, for it brought him fair and square in 
front of Jericho’s hospitable inn. 

Rover, who had not gone with the blind man that 
morning — it might be because his master was too consid- 
erate of his welfare to trust him out in the fog, or it 
might be for other reasons — happened to be in the door- 
way, and hearing footsteps, barked, as any other dog 
would do, and the bark proved a beacon to Mr. Hamper. 
He used his arms again as if they were oars, and paddled 
so near the bark., that he could discover well the owner 
of it, and recognizing him as the dog who occupied a 
seat opposite him in the funeral coach, decided at once 
that he was in the right port, although its name, which 
swung directly over his head, was lost in the bank. 

Rover seemed to be on the lookout for him. He 
ceased barking, jumped towards and upon him with a wag 
of welcome, leaped across a narrow passage, looked back, 
as if to say, ‘‘ Follow me,” stood upon his hind legs and 
reached the wooden latch, which held closed a door, with 
his forepaws pressed its thumb-piece, and when down 
upon all fours again, pushed with his nose and stood aside 
for Mr. Hamper to enter the open door. 

“Ye rigged that well for a sail — the door, I means,” 
he added, as Rover looked up at him inquiringly. And 
as Peleg turned after entering, he saw Mr. Wallace gaz- 
ing anxiously out of a window opposite. He surely was 
not gazing because he could see anything.? No, he was 
looking beyond the fog banks. He saw a pretty village 
many miles from London, whose densest banks were 
carpeted with green, studded here and there with yellow 
and blue and purple ; banks that could be walked upon 
and not through ; banks which overlooked a clear, happy 
stream, that had never been forced to witness wicked 
deeds and then help conceal the traces thereof; banks 
that brought pleasure to all who beheld them, and did 
not make one button his coat under his chin and feel his 
way into them, wondering where they would lead to ; 


140 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


banks on which he had walked and talked, dreamed and 
planned, read and written ; banks that had beheld the 
birth, the growth, the burial of hopes that had taken such 
root in his soul, that upon their death he covered them, 
when he went forth to meet the world, as we cover choice 
perennials in autumn to protect them from the winter’s 
blast. The world might have thought that they had been 
there years before, but not that they were yet alive and 
feeding upon the rich soil his soul provided, to spring 
forth some day in bud and full flower. 

Yet not as the hopes of long ago would they blossom. 
From them had arisen a fairer, but not a frailer germ. It 
was the old bereft of the earthly ; it was the spirit without 
the physical. 

The banks he was now dreaming upon, the stream he 
was watching, and had been ever since the blind man 
and Rover had returned from the morgue and the funeral. 
And he hoped, but dare not be certain that he knew why 
he was thus watching and dreaming. 

So lost was he that he did not hear the door swing on 
its rusty creaking hinges, the entrance of Mr. Hamper, 
or his speech to Rover. He began finding himself only 
when the latter sat down by him and wagged his tail so 
strongly and decidedly that it was like the beating of a trip- 
hammer on the bare floor. The dog sprang up, lapped his 
face, gave a short quick bark, which might be interpreted, 
“I’ve got him,” and without waiting for a word or a pat 
of approval bounded across the room, caught Mr. Ham- 
per by the skirts of the long coat he wore, and pulled him 
well into the middle of the room before Mr. Wallace was 
fully restored to himself, his surroundings, and the use of 
the man before him to aid in the work he was doing. 
When Mr. Hamper doffed his hat, or rather thought he 
would like to, and even made the attempt before Miss 
Thump, he was unsuccessful, because he did not know 
how to get it back upon his head again ; but not so per- 
plexed was he now, for after taking it off in respectful 
recognition of Mr. Wallace’s “How are you, sir.?” he 
knew just what to do with it, and was not at all em- 
barrassed, neither was the hat when he folded it up and 
put it in his pocket. True, he missed it for a moment 


MR. HAMPER VISITS JERICHO. I41 

while his host walked to the end of the room to bring a 
couple of chairs and place them before a deal table, so 
he took it out and rolled it this time, put it back in his 
pocket, which was large enough to hold a dozen hats, and 
the seats being ready he slid into the nearest, feeling 
relieved. 

The truth was he expected to meet a man nearer his 
own station in life than he saw at a glance Mr. Wallace 
was. He had inferred his rank, both from his being inti- 
mate with the blind mendicant, and from the fact that he 
resided at Jericho, and to the contradiction of these ex- 
pectations was due the rolling and replacing of the hat, 
the awkward slip into the seat and the abashed look he 
gave to Mr. Wallace, who seated himself opposite. 

“You are Mr. Peleg Hamper, of Wreckers Court?” 
said Mr. Wallace in an inquiring tone, and not a little 
surprised at the hangdog look of the man whom he had 
been led to believe was ignorant and uncultivated, but 
honest and frank. 

Of the first two he had little doubt, but his present 
demeanor did not indicate the last two. 

“ That be wot they calls me, sir, and that be where I 
lives,” replied the owner of the name, and as he looked 
up this time his head did not fall after the reply ; his 
eye was brighter, and he seemed more like the honest 
man that he was. “The blind man who war in the coach 
yesterday said it might be as I’d be of use to y’ in find- 
ing out what y’ wants to know. Now, afore we begins, 
sir, let me tell y’ I be poor, but I calls myself honest. I 
'ooks for ’em, I knows, but y’ never ’eerd that Peleg Ham- 
per took from un on ’em when wot they ’ad could help 
them they b’longed to. If I finds un on ’em will sure go 
to the dead- ’us, I slips off any little thing wot be con- 
wenient, and opens this ’ere ’old I keeps in my pocket 
an’ ’eaves it in. I alius watches if any folks claims, then 
I gives ’em the tell-tales, that’s what I calls ’em, that be 
found on ’em — tell-tales — and awful tales some on ’em 
tells, too. If folks don’t claim ’em I say I be poorer than 
the men at the dead-’us, and so I keeps wot I finds. If 
y’ wants good an’ I can ’elp y’, Peleg Hamper’s yer man.” 

Saying this he had forgotten that he was addressing a 


142 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


gentleman, so anxious was he to make himself perfectly 
understood before any offers were made, or any subject 
broached, and grew bold and bright as he talked. 

“ I seek,” returned Mr. Wallace, pleased beyond meas- 
ure with the frank, homely way in which Peleg stated his 
opinion of himself, “ to do justice to the wronged, to bring 
to light dark deeds by which the young and innocent 
have suffered, and to restore property to rightful heirs. 
Here is my hand, friend, and we will first drink to suc- 
cess in a glass which the hostess of this inn knows well 
how to have poured,” and he laid a clean well-shapen hand, 
browned by sun but not by labor, into the unwashed, 
uncouth, but withal hearty and well meaning hand of 
Peleg Hamper. After a cordial shake, he rapped loudly 
for the keeper of the bar, who appeared, and with much 
deference soon reappeared with the ale, which was foamy, 
notwithstanding the morning was fog^y. 

Mr. Hamper was thirsty and emptied the glass greed- 
ily. Mr. Wallace was not thirsty, but to put his guest 
more at his ease emptied his glass also, but slowly and 
with a preoccupied air, as if he did not taste its contents. 
He was about to rap for the re-filling of both when Ham- 
per said, 

“ Bleeged to y’, sir ; y’ ken take in a 'eavy cargo easy 
anough, but when she begins to -reel, 'tain’t so easy to 
’eave over wot y’ doesn’t want. I used to get mor’n I 
could sail under, but I promised long ago I’d call it high 
tide at un glass, and I’ve kep’ it, sir, ever sence.” 

“ And I shall not be the one to help you break the re- 
solve,” replied Mr. Wallace, scoring another one in favor 
of Hamper. “ Now there is no use in parley, let us come 
to the point, and our business for this morning will not 
be long. Tell me all you know about the last — I believe 
it is the last — body you found.” 

Mr. Hamper tossed his head to throw an uncombed 
lock out of his line of vision, folded back the cuffs of his 
coat sleeves, by many inches too long, leaned forward on 
the table, upon which he laid his crossed arms, and thus 
began : 

“ Yes, it be the last un, sir ; I ain’t ’ad the ’art to keep 
a sharp lookout sence ; and yit if there’d been any on ’em. 


MR. HAMPER VISITS JERICHO. 


143 


I s’pose Gaff ’ud a seed ’em, if I didn’t. He be keen, 
Gaff be, but y’d never know it by looking at him. Shall 
I begin way up stream and cum down with ’er, or shall I 
tell only wot I knows sence she anchored.?” 

“ Let me know every particular, never mind of how 
little importance it may seem to you,” replied Mr. Wallace 
with an air of anxiety and impatience to hear, and yet a 
dread of what might be revealed. 

“ Mebbe I’ll be slow, sir, but I’ll be sure ; and if I 
doesn’t keep nigh enough to shore in the words I uses, 
all y’ve got to do be to cry, ‘ Land ho !’ and I’ll steer 
closer. ’Tain’t fresh water I likes to live upon, and it 
been’t on it I’ve spent many a year ; it be on the salt — 
a long pull fur weeks and months, there be where I be 
home, sir, and there’s where I’d be now, but for Jane and 
Gaff. 

“ Jane and me sailed together once on the same ship, 
and when we landed I got a hankiring after ’er, so that 
she said if I’d stay on land she’d jest as soon be Mrs. 
Peleg Hamper as stay Miss Jane Cake, and so I never 
shipped agen. I been’t sorry either, fur Jane war a good 
first mate, tho’ y’ might o’ thought sometimes she war 
cap’ain and I war mate. It never done no ’arm to me to 
let ’er be so sometimes, and it made ’er pull a better ’and 
when she war mate agen. So we kep’ in a pretty fair 
course, puttin’ in first one port, then another, to get 
anough fur a ’onest livin’ ; but I warn’t made fur a land- 
lubber, and I didn’t feel easy till I got Snatcher-; be- 
fore I got ’er Jane and me ’ad been towing a little mite 
of a craft through pretty rough water fur ’im — ’e warn’t 
so strong built as I’ve seen, and many a time I thought 
’e’d let go of our tow and sail over yonder on ’is own 
account, but you’d never think to look at ’im now that 
’e ’adn’t alius draw’d in deep water. Gaff ’ll soon be ’ead 
an’ ears over me. 

“ Well, I got Snatcher, and then we done better. I 
got a deal to do for^ folks pullin’ ’ere and there, and I 
fetched in many a stick that kep’ us warm and cook’d the 
child’s gruel. Un night Jane said she’d go ’long, and she 
did ; it war the first time we’d been out at night, and we 
didn’t know wot we war steerin’ first this way and then 


144 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


that fur. Jane said I pulled wrong and I said Jane pulled 
wrong, and she let go the paddle and I let go the paddle, 
and it didn’t make no difference — the boat went ’ere and 
there just the same, port and lee, lee and port ; and says 
I, “ Jane, Snatcher’s like a dog ’untin’ prey, suthin moves 
’er to ’unt, and we’ll ’ave to ’old taut and watch.” As I 
said that, Jane reached out ’er ’and — it war a ’and y’ 
could see well, even when it war dark, and when it 
p’inted y’ knowed where to look. I used to ask ’er not 
to ’old it aloft when I war lookin’, for I couldn’t see 
much else. 

“Well, Jane p’inted ; the night war’nt dark, but the 
tide war swellin’ fast and the water riled, and everything 
looked the same color to me. But Jane war keen — Gaff’s 
like ’er — and seed wot Snatcher was a steerin’ to. And as 
soon as she p’inted the boat war still, dead still, even 
the swell didn’t move ’er. Jane looked at me, and I 
looked at Jane. ^ She raised ’er finger agen, but I couldn’t 
’elp ’er. I thought the*old ’un ’imself war after us, and I 
’eld to the sides o’ Snatcher — that war un o’ the times, 
sir, when I let Jane be cap’ain — and I doesn’t think, at 
that particklar time I war even as good as first mate. 
She took both paddles and jest paddled right up to it, 
and when she dropped the paddles. Snatcher war dead 
still agen. 

“ The cap’ain never looked at me agen for a ’and at 
the cargo ; she jest ’eld taut with un ’and an’ with t’other 
took’ old of — of — a woman ! I know’d then wot ’er ’ands 
war made so big for. She pulled it alongside and says, 

‘ Peleg Hamper, y’r ’fraid, ain’t y’r ? If I war in there 
’ud y’ want anybody to pull me in and see if I couldn’t 
be fetched to.’ Says I, ‘ I’d say t’war mean if anybody 
didn’t.’ with that I ’eaved up ’er feet, while Jane kep’ a 
good grip on ’er shoulders, and she war in the boat. 

“She ’adn’t been in the water long. Jane alius said 
she know’d she fell in, or jumped, or war pushed in jest 
the time we cut loose from shore, and that war wot made 
us go out that night. Well, Jane rubbed ’er and blowed 
’er, and I pulled for port like I never pulled afore, but 
no use.” 

Here Mr. Hamper stopped quite abruptly and was 


MR. HAMPER VISITS JERICHO. 


145 


lost for a moment in thought. He at last decided to 
keep back the rest that he knew, or at least a part of it, 
and continued: To make it short, nobody know’d ’er. 
She war at the dead-’us, and Jane and me went often to 
look at ’er ; and if we ’adn’t been so poor, we’d a put ’er 
away oursel’s ; but folks can’t alius do what they’d like 
to. That war our first, and we kind of drifted into the 
bus’ness. After Jane shipped one day under another 
cap’ain, who takes a crew but never brings ’em back, I 
felt lone in the boat, and took a pardner. We didn’t pull 
together as Jane and me did, so I said I’d wait for Gaff, 
and I did. 

“ Well, sir, I be long, but it be better to know who 
y’ve got in tow, so I tell ye this about myself. Off and 
on I’ve ’ooked many on ’em in fifteen years, but I never 
found anything like the first un till I ’ooked 'er the t’other 
night. They war both sweet, clean ones, smelt o’ green 
grass ; made me think o* things I never seed, and never 
expect to, and I’ll tell y’ sir ” (here he leaned toward Mr. 
Wallace till their faces almost touched, his voice sunk to 
as soft a whisper as he could), “ wot sent un, sent t’other !” 

Mr. Wallace started, and with ashen lips gasped, 
“What makes you think so? Tell me quickly, man. 
Tell me all, keep back nothing. Here !” and he took from 
his purse a five-pound note, and thrust it into the hand 
of Peleg. “It shall be doubled for everything you tell 
me that will aid my work.” 

Mr. Hamper drew back, and laid down the note say- 
ing, “ Don’t y’ pay till y’ know y’ve got suthin to pay 
for ? Mebbe wot I be a goin’ to say won’t be wot y’r 
expectin’.” 

Mr. Wallace saw that he had been too hasty in show- 
ing so much eagerness to possess this man’s knowledge, 
thus, in some measure, putting himself in his hands. But 
he let the note remain upon the table and said, almost 
imperiously, “ Go on ! go on !” 

“ When the first ’un laid at the dead-’us I seed a man 
go to look at ’er ; I didn’t like ’im. He war slimy like, 
and alius a wipin’ off the slime, and the more ’e wiped, the 
more slime war left. I never forgot ’im, and I says to 
Jane many a time, ’e dont go so often cause ’e wants to 


146 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


see that woman layin’ there ; the devil makes ’im go, and 
it’s the devil in ’im as makes ’im wipe so much. ’E’s a bad 
un, I knows, for ’e don’t cut the water clear and clean 
like a fair sailin’ barque. ’E been’t tidy in his riggin, y’ 
thinks ’e be goin’ into every port. Well, I never see 
’im after she war laid away, till she laid in the dead- ’us. 
Yes, I did, too. One day me and Jane war pullin’ along 
a lone place, and we seed ’im ashore, as if ’e war a lookin’ 
for wot ’e couldn’t find. I see hm at the dead-’us t’other 
day, wipin’ and wipin’ and I’d like to know if ’e’s wiped 
all them fifteen year. ’E looked as if ’e’d weathered lots 
o’ gales sence then, and ’ad ’ard work to weather ’em too. 
Afore Miss Susan 'Fhump and the blind man come that 
day, the devil took ’im in to wipe the slime off, and put 
’im out to wipe more slime, and when he seed ’im, ’e be- 
gun to wipe faster and faster, and didn’t go back to look 
at ’er agen, but ’e comes to me and says, ‘ You found ’er 
I ’ears ?’ ‘ I did,’ says I. Then ’e begun to wipe, and Miss 
Thump come by with Marthy Hamper, an’ says ’e, ‘ I’ll 
see y’ agen.’ But mebbe the blind man told y’ that I 
fetched sight o’ ’is sail when we war near the grave, and 
I felt so riled inside like, that I says, ‘That man knows 
more’n ’e’d like folks to know.’ And the blind man war in 
the same coach, and says, ‘ If y’ calls at Jericho y’ll meet 
some un as wants to know what y’ knows for good, not 
for bad.’ So I be come, sir.” 

“ When will this man see you ?” asked Mr. Wallace, 
endeavoring to calm himself. 

“ Don’t know ; ’e didn’t tell me,” said Peleg, “ but soon; 
I’m thinkin’ ’e’s uneasy like. I finds the water alius 
draws ’em. I’ve ’ad ’em like ’im. Many on ’em ; I knows 
’em,” and he tossed his head, which meant, “ I know just 
how to treat them, too, to get any needful information.” 

Mr. Wallace ordered the glasses re-filled. Peleg was 
thirsty from talking and his host from e;ccitement, and 
they were emptied in silence. Mr. Wallace was anx- 
ious to be alone, and Peleg was anxious to go. So both 
arose; the former took up the note and pressed it into 
the hand of the latter, who said, “ Not till y’ knows it be 
yer man.” 

“ Never fear that, Mr. Hamper ; your story has been 


HE COULD NOT REACH PORT. 


147 


worth to me ten times — a hundred times this, and you 
will oblige me by taking it ; and if you know in time when 
this man will seek you, leave word with the blind man.” 

The fog was less dense, and Peleg Hamper found his 
way quite readily back to Wreckers Court. 


CHAPTER XX. 

OF ONE WHO COULD NOT REACH PORT. 

The papers were yellow and tender, some even musty. 
The hands that opened them, the eyes that read them, 
the mouth that so blandly spread itself, as one after 
another they were laid away, belonged to Lawyer Trout — 
the wily Trout, who toyed with bait that bethought was 
golden, that he was sure was golden. He had glided 
around it, under it, over it, and very near it for many 
months. And so sure was he of its being a rare, precious 
bait, that he had almost decided to come near enough to 
nibble; and having thus nibbled, he would soon swallow 
it all, trusting, if there should be concealed a hook, its 
sharpness would be so modified by the richness of the 
bait, that he would never feel its sting. 

The yellow, tender, and musty were not to be found 
in the office of S. S. Trout, neither was that gentleman 
himself to be found there when our chapter opens. They 
were yellow because they had only at rare intervals seen 
the light for almost as many years as the lawyer could 
count since he had opened a pair of twinkling eyes upon 
this world of craft and cunning — two things which he 
considered it necessary to bring to as high state of per- 
fection as one could in his own nature, to be able to cope 
successfully with the world. It is a matter of record in 
the Trout family, that this particular member of it began 
the fostering of these two requisites at an ante-natal period, 
and was crafty and cunning enough to step upon life’s 
stage before he was, according to nature’s laws, to be ex- 
pected, and before all things were in readiness for his ad- 
vent. Thus early he began to play an underhanded game. 


148 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


They were yellow, we said, because they had been 
kept in the dark, like one who justly inherited what they 
treated of. They were tender for much the same reason. 
They were musty because they had been on deposit in 
subterranean vaults that were owned by the municipality ; 
and that were opened by the officers of the municipality, 
when a peep at their j:ontents was shown by such an hon- 
orable, well reputed person as Lawyer Trout to be abso- 
lutely necessary to the settling of an estate — not in Chan- 
cery^ for then it would never be settled, and the search for 
clear titles would be useless — which had been unclaimed, 
and whose habitable portion had given shelter for years to 
none other than bats and owls, because none other had, 
in all that time, showed so clear a claim to its shelter. 

As we have recorded, the mouth spread itself blandly, 
and as the eyes continued to read, and the hands to lay 
away, it spread still more blandly, till it threatened to 
spread completely over the face, for craft and cunning 
were just as busy within as hands and eyes were without. 
So what wonder the mouth should express the degree of 
success which craft and cunning whispered might easily 
be reached if all would agree to work amicably under 
their leadership. If their plan was successful, what joy 
it would be to see their master richly rewarded. The 
hands would then be softer and fairer than now ; they 
could be laved in rose-water, and incased in web-like 
silk ; the eyes would never be strained by perusing long 
documents, or bored with dry law text ; the mouth would 
have nothing to do but smile. So craft and cunning, with 
these their willing aids, made ready to begin their work. 

While this agreement was being entered into, Mr. 
Trout was making copious notes of many, and copy of one 
of the yellow, tender, and musty. Most carefully did he 
trace and retrace every word, line, angle, and scroll of this 
latter; for as he said to himself, though never relaxing 
in blandness, so sure was he of help, “ I do not find the 
one link needful.” 

Craft replied very curtly, “ Make it, then,” and Cun- 
ning added, “I’ll show you how.” 

So the lawyer of good repute, with these powerful 
auxiliaries, laid the foundation for further recordances by 


HE COULD NOT REACH PORT. 


149 

our pen, for to portray faithfully the suggestions of craft 
and the work of cunning is our task. 

These yellow, tender, and musty had never been dis- 
turbed since they had been admitted to the guardianship 
of the subterranean vaults years before the curtain was 
lifted first upon the drama whose scenery we paint. The 
municipality’s officers had opened these vaults at the re- 
quest of the Lord of Ivandale, and the history of each 
claimant to his estate, so far as he then knew, had been 
laid therein with titles, claims, quit-claims and documents 
innumerable which he would never trust elsewhere. These 
last it were which had yellowed with time, while their 
owner had sallowed and soured without reason. They 
had grown tender, while he had grown harder and 
sharper. They had groWn musty, while he had covered 
himself with a moral, mental, and spiritual mould, so 
deep in color, so thick in growth, that everything and 
everybody was distorted through the mouldy look which 
he took of them. 

He hated sunshine, and a smiling face made the lines, 
the hard lines, harder and deeper. He hated fresh, free 
air, and a bright, breezy body only thickened the mould 
— never dislodged one particle of it. 

He had never been a happy man even in the heyday 
of youth. At the start in life the fault was not his if he 
was not as other children, for his moral make-up was not 
well balanced. It was too weighty in some places and 
too light in others. It jutted out here and sunk deep 
there, and the most prominent juttings indicated too well 
developed suspicion, jealousy, and love of revenge for 
wrongs which were for the most part imaginary. As he 
grew into boyhood and youthful manhood he might still 
be held partially blameless for nursing suspicion, foster- 
ing jealousy, and hugging supposed wrongs till they grew 
to such mammoth proportions that he could not meet an 
extended hand without first dropping his eyes and in the 
most contemptible manner looking at the friendly hand, 
the arm, and the nearest pocket to see that nothing lurked 
within either which might regard the meeting of the 
fingers as a signal to burst forth. He saw an enemy 
everywhere. 


150 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


We said he was at least partially blameless, for he had 
no one to teach him that if he cherished frankness he 
weakened suspicion ; if he encouraged confidence he 
drove away jealousy ; that he could, if he would, lessen 
somewhat the juttings, and round in proportions the 
deeply sunken of his nature. There was no one to show 
him this. His mother, who should have done it, was glad 
to keep from his sight ; she knew he was a moral deform- 
ity. His father was rich and a man of the world, yet not 
a spendthrift. He had inherited vast wealth, and although 
he was dissipated, never let slip a penny too much. The 
prospective heir brought peace and quiet for a time with- 
in the walls, but when he showed himself taciturn, morose, 
and as disagreeable and unlovable as a youngster of his 
years could be, the father cast him off. He trained his 
horses and his hounds, whipped and coaxed their faults 
out of them, but let the little being for whose moral lack- 
ing he was responsible, grow as he would, or as he could 
— and if he had seen fit not to grow at all, it would have 
suited better. Being contrary, of course, this last he re- 
fused to do — to be sure he did not make an oral declara- 
tion of this determination on his part, but as each day he 
grew stronger and stouter the inference was, that nature 
had not the least idea of laying him out of the sight of a 
father who was growing daily in hate toward him, and of 
a mother who saw she was not able to control him, or. 
show him how to control himself ; so she left him to the 
care of those who gave him a loose rein for sake of peace. 

When he was nearing majority, his father one day 
shipped with more cargo than he could carry ; for as he 
grew in years his times of shipping grew in frequency, 
and his carrying powers grew weaker in proportion, and 
it was never known exactly what port he reached, or if he 
reached port at all after he got sober. All 'that was 
known of him after the last bottle was uncorked and 
emptied was that he slid off the softly padded chair upon 
the cold marble floor, laid his head upon a huge griffin’s 
claw that helped support the massive table, and slipping 
anchor, was off on a voyage whence he never returned — 
that is, he did not return as he always had done under 
similar circumstances. But upon the day when Ivandale 


HE COULD NOT TEACH POTT. 


151 

greeted its new master, there are rumors that at the feast 
the guests were gloomy and often looked behind them 
with a timid air, called their carriages early, and breathed 
more freely when without the walls. That the servants 
actually saw the cause of this as they were hurriedly 
clearing the board ; that their old master walked in, sat 
in the chair he had last occupied, called for his favorite 
wine, which the butler, not daring to say he would first 
ask the young lord’s permission, uncorked, poured out 
and handed to the ghost, who quaffed deeply, called for 
more, quaffed again, called again, and so continued to call 
and quaff till there was not a drop left. Just then the 
new lord and his mother, who had heard from the terror- 
stricken menials of the unbidden guest, appeared in the 
doorway. The former advanced in a menacing way, when 
the ghost seemed to choke with rage at sight of him, and 
sliding from the chair laid his head again on the griffin’s 
claw ; the latter in turn sank upon the threshold uncon- 
scious. The young lord ordered the attendants to take 
her away, and after them he bolted and barred doors and 
windows, turned to the griffin’s claw, but there was no 
head upon it ; searched every nook and corner of the spa- 
cious apartment ; opened every closet and found nothing 
to show how the guest had entered, how he had left ; and 
but for the long row of emptied bottles he would have 
thought it all a delusion. It is upon these rumors that 
we base the doubt that he never reached port, for if he 
had, why should he come back to drink again, slide off 
again, and lay his head again on the griffin’s claw ? No, 
he must have been tossing still on the unknown seas, 
headed, no doubt, for port beyond, but pulled back to 
this by cords whose threads illy spun and badly twisted 
had been made of acts unmanly, unjust and unrighteous. 

The mother of the new master of Ivandale lay long in 
the swoon, and when she did open her eyes they rested 
upon her son, who for the first time in his life, showed 
that he was touched ; they rested upon him and over the 
face came a look of pity, of motherly tenderness, of sor- 
row that he was what he was. She put out her arms, as 
if she would, take him where he ought to have been long 
years before — to her heart. But he moved not, for truth 


152 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


to say, he knew not what it meant ; and he looked back 
to see if there were not behind him some favorite atten- 
dant who was thus besought. The mother saw and read 
the look, though her eyes were glassy ; she extended a 
little more her arms, though they were stiffening. No re- 
sponse ; and in that moment of agony she lived an eternity 
of penance. Het: only child stood by her in her dying 
moments, not as he would have stood by his petted ex- 
piring hound, for to that he would have said, “ Poor fel- 
low !” But to her no word of sympathy, no gesture of 
pity ; and yet he was moved, for a mist gathered before 
his vision, and to dispel this he passed his hand over his 
eyes. She saw that, too, and knew somewhere in his heart 
there was an opening ; and a happier look swept over her 
face as she drew her last breath. 

And this was the nearest to a tear that had then ever 
been known to gather in the eyes of the Lord of Ivandale. 

After this night suspicion jutted out of his nature 
more boldly than ever, for he now had an unseen foe, 
who might invite himself to his board whenever the cords 
tightened and pulled him back for more wine. The home, 
always tiresome to the master, was doubly so now, since 
he had to come in contact with the details of the house- 
hold ; so for company and relief from annoyance of trifles 
he determined to install a mistress over Ivandale. 

The lady chosen was heiress to an honorable name, 
but not wealth to equal his. She was a timid creature 
who always did as she was bidden, and was never known 
to do without being bidden. Her father’s fortunes were 
waning, and the prospect of establishing her so well, gave 
that gentleman a new lease, although a not very lengthy 
one upon life, for his health was waning even faster than 
his fortunes. And she being the only daughter unmar- 
ried, would, he knew, be left with far from enough for her 
station when he should be gone. , 

So Helen of Bonham became Lady Helen of Ivandale. 

For a time there was such gayety within the walls as 
had not been known for many generations. There was 
music and dancing, eating and drinking, hunting and 
riding. Some of the fairest and noblest came to pay re- 
spect to the young lord, and tribute to his lady. 


HE COULD NOT LEACH POET. 


153 


The former had never shown himself possessed of 
hospitality, scarcely of common courtesy, before. He 
smiled as if he really meant to smile ; he even laughed 
aloud, not boisterously, to be sure, but as if there was heart 
in the laughter. He rode with dash and followed the 
hounds with zest ; he even played the cavalier to the lady 
guests, and was surprised at the success which he attained 
in the new roles that he attempted. He was a man among 
men, and having arrived at years of reason, we do not hold 
him so blameless for not continuing to be a man. But no 
doubt the years, when they came, found little reason to 
greet them and go hand in hand working together for 
their master’s good. So, instead of giving reason air and 
sunshine, life and strength, he let the juttings overshadow 
it till at last, like the rest, it was lost beneath the mould. 

Yet, he might have been a man, for awhile at least, 
finding himself happier as a host than he had ever been 
before, had he not one night unluckily ordered the cloth 
laid in the banqueting hall, which had never been opened 
since there had sat within one more than was bidden to 
the feast. He would have remanded the order a moment 
after, so chill and uncomfortable it made him, had it not 
been for appearing cowardly in the eyes of his servants. 
As it would close the marriage fetes, he had invited the 
families for miles around. The day was red-lettered by 
a hunt whose daring and exploit sent the blood coursing 
through the young lord’s veins as it had never done be- 
fore, and a sorry hour for him and his that he ever drew 
rein and dismounted. It were better that he were gal- 
loping even now, for thus much unhappiness would have 
been ridden out of existence, or rather would have 
been kept out of existence. But he, and likewise his 
merry guests, did draw rein, dismount, and after due 
time appear at the well spread board. Their eating was 
not out of the ordinary course ; the dishes were appetiz- 
ing and the appetites were keen enough to relish. Hearts 
were light and tongues were glib, and none more so than 
that of the host ; but the pall fell when their drinking 
began. Each looked at his right, then at his left, then 
furtively behind him : none was more ill at ease than the 
host. Many a bottle was uncorked, many a glass un- 


154 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


tasted. In vain did the butler, who was determined to 
maintain the honor of the house, urge those under him to 
pass from guest to guest as if the pall were not there. 

They had felt the same fear, and a damp fear it was, 
that made them moist in a heated room ; they had felt it 
before, and knew their old master was thirsty again. The 
pall grew heavier and blacker, the more those about the 
board drank or tried to, for little was really swallowed, 
though out of respect glasses were raised. Feeling this 
increasing weight the host unceremoniously gave the sig- 
nal for withdrawal, and the guests were not slow to follow. 

The butler and his assistants began, before the last 
was fairly over the threshold, to clear the board, that is, 
they hurriedly made away with what they could eat and 
drink in peace in their own hall : if the master waived 
ceremony, the hirelings might also. The butler was so 
considerate for his old master, that he set a row before 
his place and his padded chair, a row whose caps told 
that the mildew upon them was the work of years, and 
that these years had been quite as busy flavoring the 
wine within as leaving impress on the caps without. He 
took good care not to be left alone, though, and set them 
out while the others were gathering. “ I can’t wait to 
rub ’em up,” said he as if apologizing for the mildew and 
the lack of polish. “He won’t mind if he’s thirsty,” he 
added as he hastened to follow the last retreating fellow- 
servant. 

Had he looked back, he would have seen the padded 
chair occupied. This he feared to do, lest he might be 
summoned to attend; he only heard the cork draw and 
the wine flow as he closed softly the door. 

The guests -in drawing-room and tried in vain to 
be at home, and their host tried in vain to make them so. 
Steps were slow in dance with the younger, and words 
were slower in speech with the older. Some among them 
had been to the last feast, and again, as soon as courtesy 
would permit, bade adieu to lord and lady with no envy 
of the owners of those spacious halls with elegant hang- 
ings, massive furniture, storied paintings; those vast sur-. 
roundings with velvet lawns, turfed terraces, avenued 
parks. They hooded and cloaked with not one sigh, ex- 


HE COULD NOT REACH FORT. 


155 


cept it were of relief, as they glanced into enticing mir- 
rors in their hurried exit. The permanent guests were 
not so fortunate, but with well-bred composure awaited 
the opportunity to plead fatigue from the day’s chase and 
beg leave to withdraw. 

So one after another was gone, and the young lord 
bidding his bride good night, with a look as near pity in 
his eye as it was possible for him to express, as she turned 
to her own apartments — also glad of something she knew 
not what — hurried, or rather was hurried back to the de- 
serted banquet room. Not alight had been extinguished, 
for which he was secretly glad, and yet had a servant 
been near at hand he would have issued a sharp repri- 
mand for neglect of duty. 

He stood in the doorway, the same doorway through 
which many an ancestor had passed before him, newly 
made lords, newly made husbands, newly made fathers, 
newly made wifeless, and newly made childless. The feast 
upon possession, the feast upon marriage, the feast upon 
birth, and the feast upon death, to all these had this same 
portal admitted guests, but never before had it shadowed 
the host passing to his own board as a guest, for as he 
looked within — at the walls, the floor, the ceiling, anywhere 
but at the table, yet there at last he turned — the padded 
chair was filled, the glass before its occupant was filled 
also, but many a bottle near at hand was not filled. A hand 
was reaching out for the glass as the eye caught sight of 
the form upon the threshold, but it stiffly changed its 
direction and waived toward a chair near by which stood 
just as when some one had recently quitted it. The 
young lord advanced with rapid strides, determined to 
know if he was a fool or a madman, and put at once an 
end to this delusion. He took the proffered chair and 
turned rudely to what seemed to be one who had once 
been his father in name but never in deed. As he did so 
another glass was filled and pushed toward him. The 
face did not flush with rage, as when they had last met, 
but leered in a ghastly way as it peered forward, while its 
lips parted, sending forth breath that chilled the heart as 
well as the cheek it struck. 

“ Drink that !” said the lips — there was no tongue visi- 


156 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


ble, the icy breath had come from a hollow behind the 
white teeth, over which the lips were tightly drawn, and in 
spe^aking never curved nor relaxed in tightness — “ drink 
that !” 

Not liking the commanding tone in which the late lord 
in shade addressed the present lord in substance, the lat- 
ter looked defiance, which the former, knowing he had 
little time to argue matters, and at the same time get all 
the wine he thirsted for before he might be summoned 
into the realms whence he had just come, drawn over by 
the tightening again of the cords, did not heed, but tapped 
his long finger upon the table. Instantly one hand from 
behind took the glass, another opened the young lord’s 
mouth ; the first one poured its contents down his throat, 
the second clapped his upper and lower jaws together, 
and all so quickly that he had not time nor opportunity 
for anything but getting the wine from his throat as fast 
as possible to save himself from strangulation. Instantly 
the defiant spirit vanished. 

He was limp in body, limp in brain, atid limpest of all 
in mind. He could move, but he did not care to ; he 
could think, but he did not find much to think about ; 
he could resist and defy and conquer this thing he had 
once been taught to call a parent, but it was not worth 
the trouble. And all this had been done by wine from 
his own cellar. 

The shade, the ghost, the ghoul, the delusion, the fancy 
of an excited brain — anything he pleased to term his host, 
for he surely presided here — again tapped, and every chair 
was filled by his kind, in part his kin ; every glass was 
held up and looked through by every guest, whether with 
doubt as to cleanliness or with critical eye upon the 
quality of the material used in the manufacture, the 
young lord could not tell, and in his limpness little 
cared. 

The glasses had all been raised at once, eyed at once, 
and put down at once ; the corks were drawn — no, they 
seemed to draw themselves, the bottles to empty them- 
selves, and each to step of its own accord into its place 
in the row. All was ready, and he of the padded chair 
arose as near as the lord could make out ; at all events. 


HE COULD NOT REACH PORT, 1 5 / 

he was found at right angles to the seat of the chair very 
suddenly. 

From the hollow again came a voice and an icy breath, 
“ Let us drink to the health of the Lord and Lady of 
Ivandale. Quaff !” 

So’ many lips parted, and showed so many hollows, and 
freed so many icy breaths, that the glasses clinked with 
echoes, and the air of the room grew too cold for comfort. 
The young lord shivered. They all quaffed long and 
eagerly, then looked to him for reply, for so thirsty and 
dry were their bony throats that they drank before giving 
time for response. Their eyes were deep set and rolled 
constantly up and down, from side to side, backward and 
forward ; some were threaded with red veins so thickly 
that it was like a network ; others were shrivelled and 
shrunken, others full and glaring. The lord tried to scan 
their faces closely enough to recognize, if he could, any 
of his father’s old companions in life, many of whom had 
taken the road he had, and under much the same circum- 
stances they had been forced to step from it ; but their 
faces were like theif bodies, if gazed at fixedly — they be- 
came transparent, and he could see the chair-backs, and 
them at the same time. While puzzling himself over this 
■ — for the natural vigor of his brain and mind would now 
and then assert itselfiover the limpness, and he would be- 
gin to try for a solution of this and that, but it was a be- 
ginning and an ending at the same time — the limpness 
crept over him again, and he felt so comfortable that he 
did not attempt to overcome it. 

Again they rolled their eyes toward him for response, 
but he gave none. Again, said he of the padded chair, 
“ Quaff!” At this each spectre held his right hand to the 
left hand of his neighbor, touj:hed his glass, and raising 
as one, they sang with their chill breath — 

“ To drink your health. 

Young lord of wealth, 

We’ve crossed the main 
To earth again ; 

Our barks are tossed 
But never lost ; 

Though waves run high 
We’re always diy. 


158 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


Quaff, brothers, quaff! 

Quaff deep, quaff long. 

Nor break the song ; 

Quaff long, quaff deep, 

Before you leap 

Where you must reap ; . 

Quaff, brothers, quaff! 

Quaff long, quaff deep I 

We drink to one 
Who’ll bear a son 
Who’ll never heir 
The castle fair ; 

Of all bereft 
You will be left 
Within damp halls 
And mouldy walls, 

Then break away 
O’er earth to stray. 

Now praises bold 
To vintage old ; 

Quaff, brothers, quaff! 

Quaff long, quaff deep ; 

We’ll vigil keep. 

And now we sup 
Again the cup. 

And cry, ‘All hail 
Lord Ivandale !’ » 

Quaff, brothers, quaff! 

Quaff deep, quaff long !’* 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha !” 

And as the last note died away, the last spectre slipped 
from his chair, and those who were near griffin’s claws 
laid their heads upon them, and those who were not, fell 
upon the marble floor with a clattering sound which star- 
tled the lord, and he opened his eyes just as the butler, 
knowing daylight put the shades to flight, ventured to 
open the doors and windows preparatory to clearing the 
remnants of the feast before his master or mistress should 
learn of his tardiness. 

He saw his master, and turned in flight ; but the latter 
bade him attend him to his room, and under pain of in- 
stant dismissal without a farthing, to say nothing of hav- 
ing found him there. 


HE COULD NOT TEACH PORT. 


159 


As the lord arose from what he counted a dream, he 
saw row upon row, in rank, in file, and in dire confusion — 
bottles that had been brought from the depths of his wine 
cellar by no butler’s hand ; for of the rare vintage there 
found he alone held the key. 

The servant looked at the empty bottles, and looked 
at his master. The latter understood the horror which 
overspread his face, when, a little after, he saw in the 
mirror that his hair, the day before black, had been turned 
to silvery whiteness. 

We are recording rumors and not facts which we wit- 
nessed, and so we again say, it was a sorry hour for the 
Lord of Ivandale, and all who then and long after were 
sheltered by his walls when he ordered the cloth laid in 
the banqueting-room, for the guests next morning found 
one who would never again be a man among men. They 
wondered at his whitened locks, at the lines of hardness 
which naught but mental suffering could have given in 
so short a time ; and recollecting the dread they had felt 
the night before, withdrew one by one as courtesy permit- 
ted, and the lord and his timid young wife were left alone 
within walls visible and walls invisible. 

Day by day the juttings,grew, hour by hour the deeply 
sunken were farther and farther from sight. Children 
were born, but were not welcome. Some were wise enough, 
upon not meeting a cordial reception, to turn back whence 
they came ; others of more pugilistic tendencies fought 
their way from babyhood to childhood, and scarcely were 
they entering manhood and womanhood, when one after 
another they sought from the world what had been denied 
them at home. One son remained, the only comfort his 
mother had, and she begged him to stay while she lived ; 
and when one day the poor frightened creature, who had 
never had an opinion of her own, took the advice of 
one who had, and silently followed his beckoning, not 
over the castle walls alone, but behind the veil that hides 
the immortal from the mortal, she was no doubt glad 
of the bidding, and more gladly obeyed than she ever had 
in all her life. 

The son saw the coffin lowered, and saw himself cast 
upon the world within the same hour. 


i6o 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


The lord lived on, the mould within growing faster 
than the mould upon the walls ; and as servants worn 
out in the service laid by their garments to follow, per- 
haps, in attendance upon their mistress, whom they loved, 
he never filled their places ; and when they grew so small 
in number that the labor could not be done by them, he 
closed ante-room and library, boudoir and bedchamber. 
Hall and corridor were never passed through ; turret and 
tower were never sought ; fountain and lake were choked 
with gathering moss and fallen trees ; hound and horse, 
for lack of exercise, took their last hunt ; hare and deer 
were free as in a wilderness, and the owner built a home 
for himself underneath them all, where he would remain 
for days and weeks. From one of these tarries he 
emerged, gave orders for the reopening of the banquet 
hall, spread again the board, opened himself the secret 
wine closet, and with shaking hands arranged its contents 
for his guests, whom he awaited at mid hour of night. 

The songs were so loud, the clattering of the bones 
against the glasses and against each other were so sharp, 
the corks drew themselves so like explosives, the breaths 
were so cold that they penetrated the walls, and chilled 
in heart and hand the few attendants who in old age had 
been still faithful to their master, and were forced from 
fright to follow into that world where so many had gone 
long before. 

Finding himself alone, he traced carefully the history 
of his children, and their children even ; but how he 
learned of them no one could tell, all the former were 
dead and many of the latter. Of the heirs of one child he 
>vas silent, for that child was the son who loved his mother, 
and was kind, gentle, pure, frank, and manly, all of which 
the juttings would fall upon and crush if they could ; but 
as they had tried and failed in this case, bitter hatred fol- 
lowed. Upon these histories he locked, or rather sprung 
a secret drawer and went forth bowing under the weight 
of years into the world a wanderer. He found his way 
back some years after, sought the underground room, and 
before he wandered again, opened the secret drawer, took 
put the histories, and in their place laid a parchment which 
it shall be our pleasure hereafter to peruse, in part at least. 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES. 


i6i 


CHAPTER XXI. 

TROUBLE GOES IN THREES, SIR, AFORE THE SPELL IS 
BROKE.” 

T HE mother of Margaret Ray was the daughter of the 
youngest and best of the children born to the old lord ; 
he was the only one who had brightened his mother’s 
life, and for it received the curse of his father, and was 
made an exile from Ivandale. The former he cared not 
for, and the latter he gladly hailed when the only tie that 
bound him there had been severed. His mother had 
hoarded the few hundred pounds that an impecunious 
father placed in her hands upon her wedding day, and 
with this scanty sum he started in the race for bread. 

That he was successful in this may be inferred from 
the fact, that under the name of William Seebold — he 
never claimed blood or title, and why should he ? — we, 
or rather Mr. Trout, with the assistance of Marplot, had 
traced him to the thriving village of Wenham, made 
thriving by honest and busy hands, by shrewd brains and 
hard sense, where he invested so much as was needful in 
learning to become a maker of those useful instruments 
called knives and forks, and where he excelled in the 
manipulation, manufacturing and moulding of all that is 
needful for the formation of these, from the steel to the 
bone, ivory, or horn which encase the steel and make 
what is known as the handle. This last information we 
volunteer for the benefit of those whose refined sense of 
the fitness of things may be shocked that a scion of the 
ancient family of Radnor, sole heir, perhaps, in time of all 
their heirlooms within the walls and gates of Ivandale, 
should not have journeyed to London as a gentleman of 
birth, and after hob-nobbing with his peers and superiors, 
spending all that he had and borrowing all that he could, 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


162 

settled down in cheap obscure lodgings, awed by his fel- 
low lodgers as the son of a lord, and visited secretly by a 
few charitably disposed, who may have supped with his 
grandfather; that he should not have trod bare floors in 
rusty velvet slippers, and sat upon unstuffed chairs in 
gown of ragged brocade, nursing the well tapered fingers 
through whose veins the blood of generations of elegance 
and idleness flowed. 

As we find the fact that he did not do any of these 
things a matter of record, the fastidious reader may, per- 
chance, find upon the side of Lady Helen some ancestor 
who was a mechanic, a tradesman, or else had the good 
sense to feel he would gladly exchange his life with either 
of these. 

We can always find a reason for anomalies if we try; 
but the facilities in this case being as accessible to the 
reader as the writer for showing why this one existed, we 
will no longer detain him, but return to the heart of the 
village of Wenham and greet William Seebold. 

There, we say, he was successful, for though he trod 
bare floors, his shoes were whole, though their make-up 
was perhaps clumsy ; he sat upon unstuffed chairs, yet 
his coat was warm and of guernsey pattern ; his hands 
had browned by exposure, and the taper of the fingers 
made him able to perform the most delicate work, and 
mark him among his fellows as a skilled artisan. 

From the workman he soon grew to be master, from 
the master superintendent, from the superintendent pro- 
prietor, from proprietor of one he grew to be the centre 
of many. And he had also grown to be the centre of the 
happiest, brightest, and prettiest home Wenham had ever 
seen. Here natural refinement had full scope, and the 
musical, the artistic, and the literary world was searched 
for its choicest contributions. 

Common sense had filled his pocket by showing him 
that honest labor alone could aid him when the portals 
of Ivandale closed ; and having done her labor, common 
sense stood aside and made way for the gratification of 
other senses. 

His wife, noble in heart, noble in soul, and in every 
way a true woman, drank so freely of this cup of peace, 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES. 


163 

contentment, and happiness, that while yet in her prime 
the keel grated upon the sands that bound the Great 
Beyond, and she stepped quietly ashore, yet not before 
she knew that the little girl, their only child, so shy and 
sensitive, so tender and loving, might perhaps some day 
be lady of the deserted castle, and exacted a promise 
from her husband that the child should know of it. He 
who had lived so long under the shadow of the juttings 
of jealousy, avarice, and hatred, would have renounced 
all kinship by letting the secret rest beside him when he 
should follow her. 

But the mother, with the womanly fear of something 
coming in after years with “ if ” for the premise, and 
“ if ” for the conclusion, prevailed upon him to either 
leave it in available form, or tell Mary when she should 
be old enough. The former he did, and well it was so, 
for before she could fully comprehend it, if she had been 
told, a shadow from his old life reached him, and hatred 
applied the match to the workshops broad and many- 
storied, to the office cozy and inviting, to the home ele- 
gant and spacious. For years the brain had been taxed, 
the hands had been busy, the feet active, the heart full 
of sorrow for the sorrowing ; the ear had listened to the 
cry of humanity and relief given with bountiful hands ; 
but the end came when, mid the lurid glare that arose 
from the destruction of the long years of patient toil, he 
saw an old man clapping his hands with joy as the lap- 
ping tongues grew longer, and the fiery throats yawned 
deeper. He sickened at the sight, and closing the eyes 
to shut it out, they never opened again, and Mary See- 
bold, with her only legacy, was fatherless, homeless, and 
penniless. 

A mournful group laid beside the recently dead wife 
the man who had labored side by side with the lowliest, 
and who equalled in vigor of mind and the stuff of which 
a true man is. made, the greatest among them, mourned 
by the humble and missed by the high. Many a door 
was opened to little Mary, but the one she chose to enter 
belonged to the sturdy Major Ray, who had served in 
war and in peace, and found the latter the most difficult 
to do. So, when he saw no immediate prospect of re- 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


164 

bellion abroad or dissension at home, he left the ser- 
vice and busied himself and everybody who would be 
made busy by him, in caring for his own and for a good- 
ly estate left by his wife in his trust for their only heir, 
Richard, who was wild enough to see the world at its 
gayest, but not wicked enough to be stained by its impu- 
rities. 

The major drew the reins occasionally, and he came 
to Wenham, but restive soon under its prosy, plodding 
life, he threw off restraint and was gone. He had, like 
his father, a great warm heart beating within, and like his 
mother a refined attractiveness without. 

As Mary grew in years, in grace, and in beauty, he did 
not wai^^for the check-rein to call him in ; he came oftener 
and tarried longer than when no one beside the major 
and a stiffly-starched, correctly-plaited and never-rumpled 
old housekeeper was there to welcome him one hour, and 
the next leave him to entertain himself in any way that 
seemed best suited to his mood. But this charming little 
ward of his father regarded him as a most fastidious guest, 
at the same time he afforded a most agreeable break in the 
monotonous life she led between propriety of the gover- 
ness, the starch of the housekeeper, and the whimsical 
indulgences of the major. So she innocently spared no 
pains to make him well suited with his old home, and 
better than he had long been with the village itself. The 
major saw it all, and was not ill pleased. He once ven- 
tured a visit to Ivandale, and amid curses showered upon 
the child and all who loved her, he learned, that in all 
probability, the turreted and towered old castle would 
some day be hers, that is, if the old man who held it 
should ever slip anchor, which there seemed little inten- 
tion on his part of ever doing. 

Old Major Ray was brusque, busy, and somewhat 
inclined to be whimsical, but he shot out warm beams 
from his good heart, that thawed icy natures despite them- 
selves. A lifetime with the old lord would never so melt 
him, but that he would have congealed again as soon as 
left to himself. But during his brief stay the visitor so 
thawed him, on the rim as it were, that tiny streams from 
his inner self flowed sparingly through, and so gladly did 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES. 165 

they seem to flow that their owner begged his guest to 
prolong his tarrying. This was politely declined under 
the pressure of home duties. 

“ Egad,” said the major to himself as he rubbed his 
limbs grown stiff and clumsy with rheumatic twinges, for 
whose speedy growth damp walls and musty sheets are 
hot-beds, “ I have served in the heat and in the cold, in 
the mud and in the sand, but dam’me I never felt so 
queer in my life. I’m as clammy inside as I am out. 
The devil holds this redoubt, and dam’me again if I don’t 
believe the old fellow here is the devil himself. Mary 
shall never come here. She’d stifle, poor child. Bright 
sun and pure air haven’t found themselves in here for 
generations, 1 know. What shall we do with it 1 Tear it 
down and build it over. I’ll see to it ; ” and dreaming of 
riding one of his hobbies — erecting, adding, and diminish- 
ing so rapidly after the erecting, that all trace of the original 
soon disappeared. He slept within the walls of Ivandale, 
in the very room, in the very bed, where Lady Helen had 
so gladly drawn her last breath and acquiesced in the re- 
quest Death made to follow him. His sleep was troubled ; 
and he was not alone in this, for he heard steps, now in 
corridor, now in room, once they stopped at his door, and 
he roared “ Who’s there.?” 

A sigh so sad, so touching, was the only reply, and 
the footsteps passed on. After this he was clammier than 
ever; there was a stickiness to everything now, even to 
his nightcap, which he drew over his ears to keep out 
the sound of the stepping, which increased after the sigh 
had died away. As he did this he heard a laugh, it was 
a mocking laugh, which seemed to say — “ Nightcap ! ha ! 
ha ! you can’t keep it out with a nightcap,” and the steps' 
were legion* then, some heavy, some light, but no two to- 
gether. 

“ Why in the devil don’t you keep time !” called out 
the major writhing under the inharmony of the stepping. 

“ If you must come, come under better discipline. Now 
I’ll count, if you haven’t got a drum with you. Get in line 
now !” 

Such a ha, ha-ing and scampering as followed would 
have frightened a less courageous .man than the major. 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


1 66 

but he said to himself again, “ They are devils, and 
I don’t wonder, it is the best place for them here I ever 
saw, but they must be put under marching orders,, and 
then I can go to sleep.” 

“ Ready there !” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha !” 

“ Now, left, right ; left, right; left, right.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !” and the feet came down as one. 

“Just keep step now,”*cried the major, “ till I get to 
sleep. One good turn deserves another. I have shown 
you how to make your steps musical ; now keep good 
time, and I’ll be asleep in a twinkling.” 

So he was, and when he awakened it was broad day- 
light. The servant who answered his ring had a scared 
look, and replied to his questions with a timid air. 
Mystery, whether real or imaginary, breaks the barrier 
for a time between the served and serving : so this atten- 
dant ventured to ask : 

“ Did you hear her sigh ? Poor thing ! ” 

“Who.?” 

“ Why the mistress. Last night was the night- she 
comes. She don’t stay long. They drive her away.” 

“ Who drives her away ? asked the major, beginning 
to think his dreams might have been real aRer all. 

“ Them that drinks below stairs. We heard ’em ; they 
marched,” said the servant, whispering and shaking his 
head as if to enjoin a like proceeding upon the guests. 
“ But I can’t tarry, or my master will say I’m peachin’. 
He’s jealous, sir; jealous. Do you know aught of the 
young one he put out ? He was good and cheery. We 
all loved him.” 

“ And well you might,” said the major. 

“You know him, sir ; you know him .?” cried the old 
servant catching at his arm. “Bless him, and where 
might he be.?” 

“ There is a place where he might be, but he ain’t 
there, I know, for folks like him are too good ; but the 
place where he ought to be is the best place we know 
of — heaven.” 

“ He been’t dead .?” 

“ He is.’' 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES, 1 67 

“ Did he leave any behind him ?” asked the old man 
after wiping the tears away with his sleeve. 

“One.” 

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll see sad days. Trouble goes in 
threes, sir, afore the spell is broke,” and with bowed head 
he hurried out, either to carry the news to his fellows, or 
to give way to the grief that was sincere. Was it a sigh 
that might still be reverberating from wall to wall ; was 
it the loss of sleep ; was it the twinges rheumatic, or was 
it the words, “Trouble goes in threes afore the spell is 
broke,” that rendered the major uneasy as he made a 
^ hasty toilet and followed another attendant that had been 
sent to show him into the presence of his host, who ex- 
pressed hope that he had rested well } 

Lest the curses with which he had been greeted, when 
the day before he spoke of Mary, should be repeated if he 
betrayed the least doubt of having passed a quiet night, 
he assured him that he was so refreshed as to feel that 
he had taken a soporific of some kind, and he thought it 
might be the excellent wine to which he had been treated 
before retiring. 

The old lord eyed him sharply during this allaying 
of his suspicions, and the major playing so well his part 
showed never a trace of the clamminess within and with- 
out which still lingered about him. 

The morning meal was simple in kind but ample in 
quantity, and served with as much formality as if the 
host had not been shut up for years, with no other com- 
pany for months together than these old followers. Their 
number being small, one did the duties of several, so that 
it was not surprising to the guest that he of the prophetic 
words, “ Trouble goes in threes afore the spell is broke,” 
should be in attendance. He anticipated his every want, 
and supplied it with almost tenderness. 

The major understood it — the man was thinking of 
the young master he had loved, and he liked the fellow 
the better for it, and yet wondered how love of any kind 
could live in such an atmosphere. 

The host soon signified a desire to be left alone with 
his guest. Watching the closing of the door, listening to 
the retreating footsteps, and otherwise assuring himself 


i68 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


that no one was near, he sat a long time in silence, sip- 
ping now and then from a re-filled cup, but evidently not 
tasting what he sipped. 

“ You’ve got her, you say at length he broke abruptly 
forth. 

“Yes,” was the reply of the guest, who knew better 
than to pretend ignorance now of the subject engrossing 
the attention of the other, “ and do not want to part 
with her. That is not the object of my visit. You 
know why she came to me. I told you her father 
died, and — ” 

“ Yes, yes, I saw him shut his eyes. I see him do it 
every night. I’ve offered him everything if he would not 
open them again. But, sir, what do you think he says,” 
cried the old man fiercely interrupting him — “ he says 
when I give him back life and home and the work he was 
doing, he will shut them on me forever. I can’t do that, 
and so he goes on opening and shutting. I had spirit 
once, sir, and I would not take insult ; but now I am old, 
and he knows it. But sometimes I call out ‘ Crowd him 
back ! crowd him back !’ when I see him coming. And they 
come ; you know them — they came here when I was made 
Lord of Ivandale, and they have been coming ever since. 
I was never glad to see them till he came, and now I call 
them to crowd him back. He says why did I do it t 
Why ? why t ha, ha, ha ! ask me why I did not do it long 
before, better ask that. Could I see him have what I 
never had Could I ever love him t I wanted once 
what he had — a mother’s love. I never got it ; he did, and 
I cursed him for it. I was never wanted, and I knew it ; 
I was never loved, and I knew it. He was welcomed and 
loved, but not by me ; no, not by me, but by his mother ; 
and when she was gone I made him go too.” 

“And if you had not,” ventured Major Ray, “he 
might have given you the love he gave his mother.” 

“ Dare to tell me that, do you.” The face grew livid 
with anger, the fists clenched till the nails sunk into the 
flesh. “ Dare to tell me what he tells me, and at my own 
table? Dare you ? dare you ? ha! ha ! I’ll serve you to 
the same illumination. I can do it — and all the prettier 
I can make the fire if you are happy. I like to hear the 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES. 169 

flames say, ‘ Where is your mother-love, your wife-love, 
and your child-love now ?’ I like to hear them snap all 
these loves. They were never, never mine, but if they 
had, if they had I might be now — ” 

He did not finish the sentence. Some pitying angel had 
breathed into his heart, and hatred for the moment gave 
place, the juttings fell, and the deeply sunken eyes were 
fuller. Tears that had known his eyes but once before 
dropped from them upon his cheeks, hands were opened 
and folded quietly together, the head laid back as if a ten- 
der nurse were preparing him for repose, the face looked 
peaceful after a little time, and exhausted by the workings 
of anger and hatred he fell asleep. 

Could it be the pitying angel touched him as a mother 
should have done in childhood and boyhood, as a wife 
would have done in manhood, as children and grand- 
children could have done in middle life and in old age ? 
That he was dreaming of what it were possible to be, to 
have been, if but the touch of the first had been given, 
for it would have led to the touch of the last 7 AVould 
that she could have held him forever thus. Physical 
weakness aided her in her ministrations, but when vigor 
of body returned, she folded her wii)gs in sorrowful si- 
lence, her hands in earnest prayer, and gave way to the 
hordes that goaded him on to do the work of unsatisfied 
hatred and revenge. 

He awoke with a start and stare, the peaceful look 
still, and for some time after, upon his face. It was the 
trailing of the angel’s garments, so loth was she to leave 
him to his yet uncompleted fate. 1 

“ You have been resting, friend,” said the major, as 
the old man continued to gaze around in a dazed way. 
“ You and I are not so robust as we were in our fighting 
days, and rest is needed often.” The old soldier was 
surprised to hear himself put it so mildly ; under ordi- 
nary circumstances he would have said, “ Dam’me, sir, 
you have been asleep.” 

By this time the trailing garments were far away, for 
the peaceful look was fading, dissolving, the hard lines 
were again hardening, the eye was growing cunning and 
suspicious, the brow was folding itself in deep frowns, the 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


170 

mouth was drawing at the corners, the hands getting 
tremulous, the fingers long and spectral. 

“ I never take rest,” said he shaking his head ; “ never, 
never. How can I V' The pitying angel must have 
taken the dreams with her, for he seemed to have no 
remembrance of them. Why could she not leave them } 
Why not give him so much as of light from Beyond.^ 
Because they would be lost in the depths of the night in 
which he groped. There is a dawn for every darkened 
nature, and good angels watch without wearying for the 
passing of the midnight hour, that they may thread the 
horizon with beams however small to show the benight- 
ed one that there will be light. The last one to bear 
the name of Radnor was in the darkest depths, and the 
dreams could find no place upon the walls of his soul, so 
the pitying angel sadly bore them away. 

The major listened in silence to the raving of his host. 
It were little use to attempt consolation, it were no use 
to appeal to reason, for as we have said before, there was 
none to appeal to, so he wisely waited for a quiet in the 
storm to remind him that he had not yet had opportunity 
to announce the object of his visit. 

“ Ha ! ha ! and you, too, have an object,” laughed the 
old lord. “ Everybody has an object. He has an ob- 
ject in opening and shutting his eyes on me. He thinks 
that I will give him back all that the flames snapped and 
crackled. It sounded good. I hear it now : snap ! 
crackle ! snap ! crackle !” 

“ Dam’me,” said the major to himself, “ I 'don’t know 
what to do with an enemy I can’t blaze away at. He’s 
too old first, and he’s too crack-brained second, and every- 
thing here is too damp and rheumatic third, and Mary 
don’t want the gloomy place fourth. I’ve got enough 
for her. This ain’t worth the powder, after she gets 
it. I’ll make my will and the child shall have all that’s 
mine. I’ve got nobody else to leave it to. Richard’s 
well enough off with the Glentworth estate under my 
management, and brother Tom’s well enough off too. 
Let him alone with his curses. He ain’t worth the 
powder.” 

While he was working himself into this conclusion his 


TROUBLE GOES IN THREES. 


17 1 


•host was working himself into such a frenzy as his ex- 
cited brain wrought scenes that had been and scenes that 
might have been, scenes that were probable and scenes 
that were possible, all fatal to something or somebody — 
that the attendant was summoned and the master borne 
to his own apartment. Glad of the opportunity to let the 
object be an object still, the major ordered his horse, left 
his regrets for his host’s illness, and the necessity for his 
own speedy departure, and breathed freely only when 
out of sight of the moss-grown statues, the untrained 
hedges, and the lopping branches of the stately trees that 
were once the pride and glory of Ivandale. 

Before doing this the old servant sought and timidly 
asked him if the one left was girl or boy. 

“ As sweet a girl as ever sun shone on,” was the hearty 
reply, “ and my good fellow if you ever find need of creep- 
ing out of this musty, crusty old cover, come to me* and 
you shall see her for yourself.” 

“Thank ye, sir,” returned the servant sadly. “I 
can’t leave him. He’s got only three on us left. But 
I’m glad she’s not a boy, sir. The spell breaks sooner on 
the girl. Poor thing ! poor thing ! It grows shorter and 
shorter on every girl. If she leave one it won’t follow 
her all her life. Be good to her, sir ; he was good to me, 
the young master was. I loved him, sir, and it’s little 
these waifs have ever seen to love.” Handing up the 
reins with trembling fingers, a great sob filling him and 
choking further utterance, he stood directly in the bridle- 
path, as if he would keep his master’s guest as long as he 
could. It might be, he thought, the last gleam from the 
outer world he should ever see. 

“ She will never come to harm while I command,” 
said the major, touched with the man’s solicitude for the 
child he had never seen. 

“Cheer up, cheer up, my fellow, and don’t prophesy 
so much evil ; you’re mouldy, mouldy ; rub it off ! rub it 
off ! How long before your master will rally, for I take 
it, by the way you lugged him off the field, that it’s not 
the first time?” 

“ No, no ; when he works himself up they always 
comes to this. And weeks mebbe afore he’ll come to. 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


<172 

They’ll give him a song — ah, I can hear ’em now — and 
then he’ll be gone a long time. You don’t know, sir; 
you don’t, what I know, sir.” 

“ No, and I don’t want to ; let me over the lines and 
dam’me if ever I play scout again. Let go his head.” 
And spur and whip were not needed ; the steed was as 
glad of freedom as the master. 

It has never been recorded as a fact, but it might be 
inferred that the object of the visit of Major Ray was the 
perfectly laudable, plausible, and pleasant one of inform- 
ing the last of the Radnors that the first of the Seebolds 
would speedily become the wife of Richard Ray. 

Upon her wedding day, Mary was told of her ances- 
try, of her legacy, but not of the curse. Few attended 
the marriage in the little church, but one more than was 
invited. It was a happy union for a few years, and then 
the shadow came. The major saw it gathering upon the 
once bright happy face of Mary, upon the frank manly 
face of Richard; and before either had confessed it to 
him, the former with her child, Margaret, had gone. 

Search proved in vain, and Richard, a broken-hearted, 
broken-spirited man, found solace in the life his father 
had loved in early years. The major was left in a deso- 
late home, ever conning the prophecy, “ Trouble goes in 
threes, sir, afore the spell is broke.” That it was broke 
he never lived to see. The Glentworth estate was left to 
little Margaret if she should ever be found, if not it fell 
to the daughter of his only brother ; in case of her death 
it fell to a distant heir, not much prized by the major. 

And this was the Margaret Ray sought for by Mr. 
Trout, the honest and well reputed; by Marplot, the 
oily and eely; by Joe, the honest and faithful; by Har- 
old, who could straighten out for others as well as him- 
self ; and not least by Mr. Wallace, who looked for fair 
play. 


LIFE NOT A. PLAYDAY. 


m 


CHAPTER XXII. 

^ SHOWING THE CHILD THAT LIFE IS NOT ONE LONG 
PLAYDAY. 

His bread was sometimes bought by rewards, his sail 
was often repaired by the sale of dead men’s shoes, his 
worn-out coat often replaced 'by the stronger, finer cover- 
ing of one who had exchanged his earthly garment for a 
robe fitted for him alone. 

The bread had been freely shared with the little Meg 
whom -he had found sleeping peacefully upon the shore 
while her mother floated quietly upon the tide ; the sail 
was trimmed and reefed, unfurled and spread, just as 
wind, tide, and the floating something demanded ; the 
coat was often shared with Gaff when he was younger or 
when the return voyage was weary, if the something was 
weighty, and it had also been wrapped about Meg when 
she was younger, too, and Had stolen down to the shore 
to watch for their coming. 

The water always held for the child a strange fascina- 
tion, and when Peleg and Martha once proposed to send 
her where she ; would “ git manners that become her,” 
said the latter, “ and handy with letters and figgers,” said 
the former, the child begged them not to tak^e her from 
the shore. 

.i “ But it ain’t where ye ought to be,” argued Martha 
one day, “here in Wreckers Court. Yer a lady born, and 
must be a lady bred.” 

“ I ain’t, I ain’t,” cried Meg. “I’m uncle’s Meg; he 
said I was since the river washed her away where I can’t 
see her. She tells me to stay where I can hear it wash in 
the night. I’ll go down now and look for Snatcher. It’s 
time for her, and I’ll ask uncle if you’re going to send 
me away from here.” f - • 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


174 

Catching up a little slat bonnet she was gone before 
Martha could present another and more forcible side to 
the question under advisement. The Wreckers stood 
aside respectfully ; the vermin who always huddle on and 
about the quays of a populous city, huddled closer as she 
passed. Instinctively they recognized her innocence and 
purity, and that she was not one of them, and a lifetime 
among them could not make her such. 

The sun was shining on the water, and this it did not 
always do. She shielded her eyes with one hand, and 
with the other beckoned to a spread sail, stamped her 
foot impatiently that her signal was not returned, and 
when at last it was, she danced for joy. By barge and 
sloop, by barque and schooner, in here and out there, 
it found its way, sometimes borne back by the swell of 
one, sometimes carried forward by the heave of another, 
till at last having no use for its sail, so intricate became 
its way, it was pulled to by the sturdy oars of Peleg and 
the feebler ones of Gaff, who was just beginning to take 
short predatory trips by day preparatory to longer ones 
thereafter by night. 

Since Jane had rowed across a wider and clearer 
river, Mr. Hamper had recognized the need of promoting 
Gaff to first mate, as soon as his qualifications would 
permit. For awhile he affdrded a partner, but that 
necessarily caused a division of the rewards, half the 
shoes, or half the proceeds of their sales, and the giving 
of every other coat. He had pulled for years, he and 
Jane, against wind, tide, current, and heave, all dead 
against them at times, and at other times, only the wind 
and current, while the tide and heave helped them on ; 
but they cared not so much for this opposition, which 
perseverence and nerve would overcome in the long run, 
but what they most feared was wind, tide, current, and 
heave all quiet — a dead calm, nothing to do and nothing 
to eat. They had been on such voyages, but it was when 
they were fresh and vigorous. Before Jane went they 
had found Meg, and found one supposed to be her mother, 
but they had beaten the calm into wind, tide, current, and 
heave before, so that the delicate little mouth was filled 
with bread of a finer grain, milk of purer quality, and 


LIFE NOT A PLAY DAY. 


175 


meat of finer fibre than they had for themselves in the 
larder. “ It took such a mite of anything,” Jane said, to 
feed her, that they did not mind the extra pennyworth of 
this or that. 

She grew as she pleased, played as she pleased, 
thought as she pleased, and being never much displeased 
about anything, had her own way with Jane, who, owing 
to her position as first mate on Snatcher, found she 
could not give her proper care, so she was sent to Sister 
Martha’s; and when Jane failed to return from across 
the clear wide river spoken of, Martha and Meg took up 
their abiding at No. 2 Wreckers Court, and there we find 
them, Martha stirring vigorously a pot of soup, and Meg 
inhaling savors and weaving fantastic things out of its 
curling steam from a low stool by the fire. 

The pros and cons were short and qmckly ended by 
Meg, who always referred knotty questions to uncle, but 
was sure to preface them by stating her own views and 
wishes, and there the matter might have rested, for Peleg 
never ventured to cross her. 

“ She’s got a clean, clear eye,” he always said, “ and can 
scan a snag along shore sooner than Marthy and me.” 

Here was the most momentous question yet, and she 
wanted to talk it on the water, too ; so, hardly had they 
pulled to, before she put out her hands to be taken in. 
Peleg, always glad to see her and indulge her whims, 
never mind how weary and hungry he was, reached up 
and took her to the ill-fitting coat, coarse shirt, tawny 
breast, and great pulsing, loving heart. 

“ And now, wot be agin my Meg V' said he pressing 
with his rough hand the little brown head upon the coat, 
which must have sent the thrill to the shirt, which in turn 
gave it to the breast, and this to the heart, for the lat- 
ter bumped and thumped so that the coat and shirt had 
to keep time to its throbs. She did not once reply, but 
springing from his arms alighted upon the driftwood with 
which Snatcher was loaded, the richest something which 
the water had that day thrown up to theni, and shaking 
Gaff, who was rubbing his shins and whining over what 
Martha called his “growin’ pains,” which to a close obser- 
ver might be noticed to come upon him when there was 


THUMP'S. CLIENT. 


a heavy prospective tax upon his energy ; here was the 
wood to be backed, or dragged to Wreckers Court a few 
squares away, and why should he not find it just the time 
for growing and the pain attendant upon this outstretch- 
ing of nature. To be just to Gaff, he never flinched at 
any call upon the water, however hard, long, or danger- 
ous ; but there he considered his duty done, and the , 
minute Snatcher was made fast, he proceeded to make 
himself fast too : sometimes it was to a warm dry corner 
on the quay, where he could watch the play of the muddy 
waters ; sometimes it was upon the doorstep of No. 2, if 
the sun was well warming it ; sometimes it was in the 
little room where “ Dad ” rowed himself into the white 
shirt ; but wherever it was, it was not in a state of much 
activity. 

“ Gaff ! Gaff !” cried Meg to m.ake herself heard above 
the splashing, puffing, ringing, and bustling near by, and 
shaking so heartily as to endanger herself to a fall from 
the wood, “ there’s a good boy ; Mother Martha wants 
onions and herbs for the most delicious soup you ever 
tasted ; I can smell it now.” And the little nose sniffed, 
and the little mouth smacked with such force, that Gaff, 
who never drew much on his imagination, drew up his 
nose as if he could smell it too ; but there he stopped, the 
nostrils came down, as practical nostrils should do, and 
the sniff was not taken till later when he actually stood 
over the boiling pot. 

“ Bother,” said he; “I don’t smell it if ye do. Mebbe 
yer satisfied with that kind o’ smell, but I been’t.” 

We are not as intimately acquainted with Gaff in his 
after-life as with some of the others whose history we 
pen, but we think it safe to presume that the above was 
the first and only time but once that he ever let fancy 
have play, and that once we shall likewise record. * 

“ I’ll tell you,” said Meg, “just how to be satisfied : 
run quick to the shop at the corner of the court, and get 
the herbs and onions and put them in the pot, then you 
will smell what’s worth smelling. Ah ! it’s good. You see, 
Gaff, uncle’s going to take me up and down the river a bit, 
and I told Mother Martha Td get the things, the onions 
and herbs, you know, and we got to talking and smelling, 


LII^E NOT A PLAYDAY. 


'177 


and it smelt so good, I forgot them till I got down here. 
Now, hurry ashore, there’s a good boy. Mother Mar- 
tha’s good to me^ and I must be good to her.” 

Meg had touched Gaff on the most vulnerable subject 
— soup, and, above all, soup made by Martha, 

It was good for the sick and the well, for the weak 
and the strong; it had been given when digestion was 
so feeble that but a spoonful, and diluted at that, could 
be taken at the first taste; but such were/ its wonderful 
properties that the spoonful was not diluted at the sec- 
o'nd taste, and doubled, trebled, and even fed freely at the 
third ; it had been given by the pailful to those hungrier 
and poorer than herself ; it had been sent for, with ample 
price, by those who need never be hungry and were not 
poor ; those whom she had nursed when sick in reality, 
and when sick because time hung heavy, and tired out 
with every other diversion they knew not y\fiiat other tack 
to take. Thus it was, “ Miss -Hamper’s soup” was sought 
for by the well-to-do, and! received humbly and thank- 
fully by the not- well-to-do, and eagerly grasped for, but 
it is hoped quite as gratefully, by those who did not do 
at all. . j 1:' . 

Gaff was of a nature that always wanted others to feel 
that he did everything reluctantly,, so, of course, he must 
make an objection, indirectly, to this proposed trip “ up 
and down the river a bit,” by saying, “ What’s to become 
o’ the wood 

“ Just let it be here in the boat,” said Meg, “ it’ll be 
fun. They’ll look at us from the barges and sloops and 
wonder if I helped uncle get the load. Hurry ashore, 
Gaff, and you’ll soon smell it,” and she gave him a little 
push that helped him along more speedily- than he was 
wont to go. 

He forgets the growing pains when he thinks about 
Mother Martha’s soup, don’t he uncle ?.” she laughed 
turning to Mr. Hamper, who, when she sprang from his 
arms to shake Gaff, thought he would lose no time but 
begin the unloading of the driftwood at once. He had 
hold of one stick, and was just about to heave it over and 
up, when he heard her say that he was going to take her 
up and down the riyer a bit. The. statement was as new 


178 


THUMP'S CLIENT. ■ 


to him as to Gaff, but he did not question its credibility; 
for the authority was not in his estimation to be doubted, 
so he let go and waited for further orders. They came 
soon, he knew they would. 

“ Let me see,” said she thoughtfully, pulling at the 
slat bonnet’s tie-string; “let me think — Loose her there ! 
haul her off! make ready ! there she goes! easy now! 
I knew I could say it all. Didn’t I say it just like you, 
uncle.? But why didn’t you loose her and haul her off 
and all the rest just as I said them.? Now, I must say 
them all again. Let’s make ready first this time.” 

The gestures, the voice, the manner, the everything 
were so completely mimicked, that Mr. Hamper let go 
the rope he was just loosening, and his hearty “ haw, 
haw, haw ! ” accompanied with a vigorous slapping of his 
great hands, startled those on shore, and off, who were 
near enough, we might have said far enough, to hear, for 
his lungs were as well developed as his heart was kind, 
his respirations as deep as the pulsations were strong, 
and the laugh was like all else he did, uttered with all 
his might. 

“ Now, that be better done ’n I could do it, Meg. I be 
glad to see yo’r light in the ’eart agen, child. I thought 
ye looked down at the ’eel, pullin’ up stream like, when ye 
jumped aboard.” 

'riie shadow fell lightly over the child’s face as she 
said, “ Never mind now, uncle, we’ll talk about it all amid- 
stream. • Did you make ready .?” 

“ Yes, ready,” laughed Mr. Hamper again, but not 
quite so boisterously, and pulled in the rope. 

“ Haul her off now,” cried Meg, from a seat always 
kept for her in the prow. Mr. Hamper struck a pile with 
the blade of the long, strong paddle, pushed, the boat 
rocked, Meg held on to the sides ; he stretched farther 
and pushed stronger till the pile was beyond reach of 
the blade ; the boat rocked again, this time to the water’s 
edge, and a little beyond, for Meg’s hands were wet. Mr. 
Hamper sat down amid the driftwood, swung the paddle 
to the right, drew its fellow from the bottom of the boat, 
and swung that to the left. 

. “ Easy now,” cried Meg, “ easy there,” as Snatcher 


LIFE NOT A PLAY DAY, 1 79 

turned about and put out straight for the middle of the 
river. 

There was no time to talk till they were beyond the 
craft of all kinds that crowded near the quays, some wait- 
ing to unload, and others already laden waiting to sail off 
or steam off ; but why they wait is a question the landsman 
never finds satisfactorily answered ; at all events we know 
they always have waited, and no doubt always will. Some 
vague idea of such seemingly unnecessary lingering off 
shore must have been passing through Meg’s mind, for 
at every one of these inactive, well-anchored, that they 
passed, she shook her little fist and said, “ I wish you 
would get out of our way, you lazy thing. I want to -talk 
to uncle, and I can’t till he can listen. It takes me now 
all the time to look for you big things that don’t move out 
of our way, and the little things that get right in our way. 
Boat ahoy !” and she clapped her hands at the success she 
was having in airing her nautical learning. Mr. Hamper 
pretended to be guided by her directions, but really kept 
a close lookout till they were below their starting-point, 
and where the craft were fewer, though just as idle as 
the rest. He rested one paddle and let the ebb carry 
them down, guiding Snatcher now and then with the pad- 
dle not at rest. 

“ Now, child, 'eave yer cargo ; make clean work of it, 
too,” said the owner of the great pulsing, loving heart, 
patting the little hand that held on still to the boat’s side. 

The slat bonnet drooped a little, the strings that 
Mother Martha always kept smooth with starch and iron 
were tied §.nd untied, twisted on the finger and off the 
finger, till with a quick movement the bonnet looked up 
and a voice tremulous and tearful said, “ I don’t want 
to leave you and Mother Martha. I ain’t a lady, and I 
won’t be a lady bred as Mother Martha says I am. I’m 
Meg, Meg Hamper, and if you and Mother Martha’s good 
enough to live with now, you’re good enough to live with 
bime-by.” 

Peleg Hamper’s first impulse was to laugh aloud and 
say, “ If that be all, Meg, y’ve got for cargo, ’tain’t 'worth 
pullin’ out ’ere’ for.” But this child had given him a 
keener inlook into children’s hearts than most men take. 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


aSo 

After all, it may have been as much in him as in her. 
She was sensitive and confiding; he had been endowed 
with a subtle something which made him recognize the 
sensitive nature and respect its sorrow and joys with just 
as much gravity as he would those that come in later 
years. 

It was this recognition and respect which drew Meg 
to him. Neither knew then, and probably never after, what 
it was. 

“Why child,” said he, looking out apparently for ap- 
proaching craft, but really to wink away the veil before 
his eyes, “ it ud cost me many a moan to see ye go for 
good ; but Marthy and me thought it be time ye war sail- 
in’ into letters and figgers, and I didn’t tell Marthy, but 
if we could git the riggin’ to our mind and yourn. I’d like 
to see ye ’eaded well into some sort of music. Marthy 
ud say I carried too much sail for my craft ; but ye see, 
Meg, child, when ye war found ye ’ad a bit o’ money tied 
round yer waist, and that’s been well laid in port ever 
sence. Says I to Jane she be none on us. Ye can see 
by the foot, the ’and, and the whole build and rig, anddf 
she stays with us she’ll ’ave lots o’ wants, and this’ll buy 
•’em, So we laid it in a port that keeps it, and pays ye 
for keepin’ it. I never could just see how it all war, for I 
thought it’d look better for me to pay ’em for the bother 
o’ lookin’ after it, but they said no ; so I thought I 
wouldn’t dispute ’em, and they do pay it, for I gets it td 
buy the rigs, Meg, what Marthy said ye must ’ave, that we 
couldn’t buy. But I ain’t took much on it, so it makes 
t’other that much bigger, and the more to make y’ a lady 
with.” 

“ But I don’t want to be a lady, uncle, unless the rest 
will be too,” returned Meg, much affected by the disclo- 
sure of having means all her own. “ I don’t want to sail 
in figures and music ; I’d rather sail here with you.” • - 

“ Ye don’t zactly sail in them things,” returned Ham- 
per, “that be the way I ’ad a puttin’ it. Ye gits books, 
and looks at ’em till after y’ve looked at ’em long anuff 
ye can tell what they means. But ye ’ave to git learnt 
■’ow to look the right way, for I’ve looked many a time 
when.:! war . younger, and the more I looked the moi^e 


LIFE NOT A PLAVDAY. 


f8l 

^ixed things got, till I couldn’t tell the ’ulk from the jib. 
V’ see no two on ’em be ’eaded the same way, that be wot 
pestered me so. But it won’t be so with ye, Meg, yer a 
different build. I'he letters and hggers ’ll all pull together 
and make a clean cut through the water. Yer rigged 
for sich. It be in the build, and them that ain’t got it 
can’t make it, with all the sails and paddles ye can find. 
Don’t say music to Marthy, she been ’t so much up in 
them thirigs, and thinks a craft be jest as good for car- 
ryin’ if it ain’t quite so much figger-headed. But Meg, 
child, I alius said be ready for every turn o’ the wind and 
the tide J ye never know which’ll do ye the most good. 
Ye see, Meg, it might be yer uncle might ’ave to paddle 
along shore after Jane when ’e didn’t want to, and then 
ye might be left with only the bit o’ money, the few 
pounds it might be then, and ye’d ’ave nobody to tow yer 
craft ; and I thought, but I didn’t tell it to Marthy, that 
y’ might tell what ye knowed to some folks’ children, and 
git anuff for bread while ye kep’ the few pounds in port 
to buy riggin’ with. Now, child, I be only lookin’ for 
Snags. I doesn’t see ’em yet, but they may be there when 
we git farther up stream. Ye see what I means, child 
I know ye does, ye’ve sich a clear eye,” and the sleeve of 
the rough ill-fitting coat was drawn across the eyes. It 
could not have been the memory of Jane, for that, al- 
though a tender subject with Peleg, had ceased to dim 
his vision ; it could not have been that the wind cut a 
bit keen, although he murmured something to that effect 
as the sleeve was withdrawn. But if he had noticed well, 
he would have found there was no wind* at all, so it must 
have been a cutting of the heart, and keener, too, such 
cuts are than were ever given by wind. It cut him to 
think he must throw a shadow over the tender little 
thing in the slat bonnet ; that he must warn her of snag 
and shoal, bar and beacon. He had known for some time 
this must be, and every day that drew it near, had made 
the good-bye more tremulous, the paddle more shaky as 
he bore against the piles, and the home-coming more 
hearty, the press of the little brown head on the coat 
more lingering, for, said he to himself, “ She’s a leddy 
born, we know, and if she gits to be a leddy bred, we don’t 


i 82 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


know — I’ve ’card sometimes 'ow they cut loose from them 
that’s been good to ’em, and if she should, if she should — ” 
He never finished, though he often got as far, for a sob, 
a choke, and a draw of the coat sleeve always prevented. 

“I see,” he continued “ye can’t draw quite in sich 
deep water.” For Meg had thrown back her bonnet and 
sat looking at him as if she was dreaming, and knew she 
was, but could not waken. 

The lips were parted, showing the pretty white teeth ; 
the eyes were wide open, showing them full, large, brown, 
and just then replete with wonder ; the face was round, 
chubby, and healthy ; the head bent forward in eager- 
ness to catch every word ; the hands small, well shaped, 
browned by the sun and water, catching now and then at 
the slipping bonnet ; the frock was of coarse threads, the 
color neither a drab, a coffee nor a snuff, perhaps a mix- 
ture of these would have made it, and perhaps it would 
have fallen far short of it — upon a little meditation we 
should say it came nearer to a nankeen, but whatever the 
color^ the stuff was neat and well fitting — Martha Hamper 
never had anything else pass from her fingers ; a large 
blue pinafore, high in the neck and long in the sleeves, 
with a broad tie-string in the back, nearly covered the 
nankeen, if we decide upon that as the shade of the frock. 
In this costume she might not have differed from some 
of the better off of the court. But we have not yet given 
the distinguishing feature, the one thing that told she 
was not a Wrecker by birth — this was the white ruff 
about the neck ; she never appeared in doors or out with- 
out it. To be sure, it was neither of fine cambric nor 
dainty dimity, but it was always white as the falling snow. 
Starched stiff and smoothly ironed, it was plaited, not 
gathered, for in the former Mother Martha could better 
show her expertness with the iron. Plenty of changes of* 
these, plain ones for week-days, with one trimmed with a 
worked edge for Sunday, was one of Martha’s extrava- 
gances — and good soul, she had had little enough of the 
ornamental all her life, so we are glad she could ride this 
hobby, ruff though it be, successfully. 

There sat little Meg slowly coming out of the dream, 
and slowly realizing that the time might come when uncle 


LIFE NOT A PLAYDAY. 183 

would be gone, Snatcher would be gone, and then what 
would there be left for her ? 

This drawing back the veil, this parting the ideal and 
the real, this showing the child that life is not one long 
playday, that he will not always be shielded by a father’s 
strength and a mother’s tenderness, but is growing in 
stature and vigor only the better to buffet with life and 
life’s never-ending buffets against him — this is when the 
castles begin to shake at the foundation and never after 
find a firm basis — they are built, to be sure, but the stones 
are laid less surely, the mortar clings less closely, and they 
seldom reach roof and tower. 

At last said the child, clinging still to the one idea 
she could clearly comprehend, “ Must I leave you, uncle ? 
I help Mother Martha* she says I do; maybe I make 
more work than I do. But I know she’d be lonesome, and 
she says as Soon as I’m a mite bigger, she can go out to 
nurse again, and I can keep house while she’s gone. Now 
that’ll be nice,” and the little form straightened up with 
dignity at the prospect of being for the time mistress of a 
home, even though it were a no more pretentious one 
than that of No. 2 Wreckers Court. 

“ It be all well anuff now, Meg, but if I don’t show 
ye this, and git ye 'eaded right, ye’ll see some day that 
Wreckers Court was a curse to ye and not a blessin’. I 
want ye to see the day, child, when ye’ll say, ‘ Uncle war 
right ;’ and if ye go on this way without a ’elm, ye’ll say 
ye’d better a been with ’er, floatin’ so quiet-like, than ’ave 
put into Wreckers Court. It be the first time I ever 
turned ye out o’ yer course, and it’s ’ard to do it; but 
ye must be bred as ye war born. I can’t bear to part 
with ye, Meg ; the paddles ’ll be idle many a time, and 
Snatcher ’ll drift where she oughtn’t to, thinkin’ o’ ye.” 

The paddles were already idle, and Snatcher was 
already drifting, for the shaggy head, crowned by a hat 
too large for the wearer, and sadly showing the action of 
wind, tide, current, and heave, fell upon the arm covered 
by the rough coat-sleeve and the veil which dimmed the 
vision this time, drew itself together and fell — tears. 

“Uncle,” said Meg, as the veil fell also from her 
eyes, “I know what we’ll do. We’ll let the letters and 


. THUMP'S CLIENT. 


784 

figures come to the court, and I can look at ’em just as 
well there as anywhere ; and when I learn to look at 
them the right way, I’ll show you how, and we can tell 
what they mean together. Now, let’s laugh and play, 
there are no such things as letters and figures. I don’t see 
what they were ever made for if they make such trouble." 
So quickly childhood dispels the shadow. 

“But, Meg," returned Hamper not so readily dispos- 
ing of the vexed question, “ mebbe the letters and figgers 
Wouldn’t come to the court. Ye can’t tell, child. They 
might draw too deep water for that. But I’ll do as ye 
wants, and we’ll bother no more, but ask Marthy if any o’ 
the folks she knows can tell Us what to do." 

“That’s it! that’s just it !" she cried, splashing the 
Water with her hands. “ But wait till we’ve all had some 
soup and told her how good it is. It will be overdone 
when we get home, and she’ll be a little vexed. She’s 
always on time, you know." 

in’ a square thing, and thinks 

“and we’ll soon smell it." 
»ars dipped, dipped, dipped.' 
Meg was silent, but thinking, thinking, thinking. Peleg 
could do neither solely, so between dipping and thinking, 
dipping and thinking, dipping and thinking, he steered to 
the quay, the court, the soup, and the advice of Mother 
Martha. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

LETTERS, “figgers," MANNERS, AND MEG BEGIN THEIR 
VOYAGE. 

Thrift, poverty and Martha Hamper had always 
been forced to dwell beneath the same roof ; but thrift and 
Martha always held the most tricks, and so managed to 
euchre poverty out of many a hand that she would gladly 
^how. Poverty showed bare walls, curtainless windows, 


Yes, Marthy be alius 
else might, too." 
now," said Meg, 
And Snatcher turned, the 0 


everybody 
‘ Easy 


MEG- BEGINS HER VOYAGE. 185 

rough tables, and chairs, some with bottoms and some 
without. Thrift and Martha, with an honorable under- 
standing of the hand each other held, so skilfully played 
their trumps, that poverty, although not wholly beaten 
and ready any time to show “ a spot,” if nothing more, 
was kept well subdued by a few homely prints upon the 
walls which made it “ kind o’ cheery like; ” by a bit of 
paper on the upper half of the window, and a clean, 
smooth bit of white cloth upon a draw-string on the lower 
half ; by a daily friction upon the tables with brush, sand, 
and water until the rough had become the smooth ; by a 
tacking on at regular intervals of bright and sombre bits 
of woollen which had been given by those whom she 
nursed, and these going from front to back, and side to 
side, passed each other over and under, so that after a 
firm tacking again of each bit when its journey across 
was ended, a close, soft seat was given to many a chair, 
that poverty would have left with a yawning not at all 
inviting to one weary upon foot, and looking about for 
rest. 

It was in this wise that thrift and Martha euchred 
poverty, we say ; for to a not critical gazer, the room had 
an air of comfort that gave one the idea of plenty not 
consistent with the known contents of Martha Hamper’s 
pocket, which in the days when she lived alone in Poor- 
ly’s Resort was often so scant that shake it anyway you 
might it would not jingle, for if happily one shilling were 
found there after the week’s rent, and the small score at 
the green-grocer’s had been cancelled, there was not an- 
other to hit it, and how could one jingle alone ? 

.Yet the good creature always found some one who 
was poorer than herself, and not a hard matter to do in 
Poorly’s Resort. And her charity was not confined to 
the needy near. She had a wide circuit, and fortune 
sometimes favored her by bringing to the bedside of the 
suffering, and coming at the same hour with herself, those 
with means as well as hearts, who always recognized the 
willing hand, the delicate touch, and the cheery manner, 
and when they or their friends needed such ministrations, 
but upon softer beds, and neath finer covering, they 
spoke for Martha Hamper a: good word. Thus she climbed 


86 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


from the low to the high, from the poor to the more 
wealthy, but never forgot the low and, the poor. 

It was after these fortunate calls that the pocket’s con- 
tents could jingle for the first time, and thrift triumph- 
antly shake its hand at poverty and offer to play it 
alone. It sometimes happened that two were needed, or 
at least those of means thought so, and upon one of these 
occasions Susan Thump had been called in to aid Mar- 
tha by day or by night, whichever way they chose to 
arrange matters, from which time they were hand in 
hand, heart to heart, and whenever Nurse Thump had a 
call she could not fill, she always referred the patient to 
Nurse Hamper, and indeed it was whispered that when 
the former knew that the latter was far more needy than 
herself, she had played some fees that were sure to be 
prompt and fat into Martha’s hands by pleading a proba- 
ble engagement, which was not at all possible. 

So, when Meg fell into her home, Martha had set 
poverty quite at defiance by having “ put into port,” as 
Peleg said, several pounds without interfering with the 
relief fund she always kept near at hand. 

Jane did not long hold her position as first mate 
regularly ^and captain at times upon Snatcher, after the 
removal of the child, and they returned to Wreckers 
Court. Peleg had paid Martha what he could spare for 
her keeping, and the rest she had provided herself; but 
when they became one family he provided for all, and 
when Gaff was old enough to help him, felt that he was 
not a whit the poorer for the one more mouth, though 
its food was finer than theirs. 

Between Mother Martha and Meg there was a fond- 
ness nothing could ever dispel, but it lacked that confi- 
dence which accompanied the love between Peleg and Meg, 
and the child soon learned this ; and although she “ talked 
her heart,” as she called it, to Mother Martha, she felt 
that she was not understood, especially when as she grew 
older she fell into the moods which now and then would 
come spite of all she could do. But a pat upon the head, 
at such times, from uncle’s rough, gritty hand, or a draw- 
ing of her cloak, if she met him on shore, or a “ Meg, 
child, I want to see light in yer eye soon,” dispelled the 


MEG BEGINS HER VOYAGE. 1 8 / 

shadow, silenced the washing, washing, sooner than ought 
else. 

Thus they had lived till Meg was nearing eight and 
Gaff fourteen, and the question of birth having been 
settled without their advice, circumstances had thrown 
the question of breeding upon Mr. and Miss Hamper, so 
far, at least, as Meg was concerned. Of the birth of Gaff 
Mr. Hamper had been consulted, and was therefore pre- 
pared for his breeding ; but this child of refinement, 
purity, and finer stuff than is the luck of many, must be 
fitted as best they could fit her, for what some day might 
be hers — a life better suited to her nature. 

When the voyagers reached the court. Gaff, whom 
they found upon the step of No 2, was sent to guard the 
driftwood, while they sat down to the savory soup which 
Mother Martha now and then declared, with a little toss 
of the head, “ might have been better if it had been eaten 
sooner.” 

' “It be good enough, Marthy,” said Hamper, “when- 
ever ye eats it. I would set yer soup agin all the soups 
in London. Another thing makes it better, ye be sure 
that yer gittin’ wot y’ thinks ye be. No biled rags, 
Marthy, ’ere. Haw ! haw ! ” 

Here the speaker had quite forgot himself, a thing he 
seldom did, for turning to Meg he said gently, 

“ Beg yer pardon, child, I forgot — ” He did not want 
to say “ye war ’ere,” but had got so far as to half com- 
mit himself to that effect ; so he took a large spoonful of 
soup, hoping while swallowing it, to think of something 
else to say, but Meg relieved him. 

“ Uncle, you can’t say anything to turn me from what 
Mother Nlartha makes. I know, too, what it is ; so let’s 
eat while it’s hot, for you know we must talk with her, so 
I needn’t go away from you both. The letters and 
figures, you remember, uncle.” 

“Yes, yes, child,” and the mouth of no mean dimen- 
sions opened widely, at least enough so to admit a wooden 
spoon, the especial property of Peleg, it being of suffi- 
cient size to hold what some might be pleased to call a 
ladleful. However, it was none too much for the mouth 
and the organs directly behind it. 


188 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


Meg’s spoon was small, pewter to be sure, but it took 
up the draughts just as greedily, though with more grace 
and less swooping of the lips. The soup was clear, yet 
tasted of everything under the sun that should be found 
in a good soup ; it was thick, that is, it was not thin, and 
yet you could not find anything in it that seemed to have 
performed that mysterious office known only to the cook, 
thickening. 

They had not the refinement of tureen or soup plates, 
but they had as white a cloth as ever these rested upon. 
They had a large clean bowl in the centre, one of a little 
less size before -Mr. Hamper, and one of much smaller 
proportions before Meg, and a plate of bread neatly cut 
accompanied each ; that by the latter was white and fine,, 
that by the former a few shades darker and several grains 
coarser, a glass of milk for one, a bowl of water for the. 
other, and not in all London was a more contented pair 
at that hour to be found ; the one with her feet swinging 
to and fro from her high stool, the other with water- 
soaked boots firmly set upon a woollen rug that covered 
his place upon the clean boarded floor. 

, When the large centre piece had been emptied for the 
third time, due chiefly to Mr. Hamper’s vigorous efforts 
with the wooden spoon, Martha undid the bib around 
Meg’s neck, replaced the ruff which tidiness suggested 
should be removed at meal-time, and after Meg had 
washed face and hands. Mother Martha told her to sit 
down and rest, for she looked weary. Peleg glanced long- 
ingly at the pipe upon the shelf in the corner; but as the 
smoke from such an instrument and white curtains could 
not dwell together in unity, or rather would form such a 
union as would render the latter anything but white, he 
dare not fill and light only when the walls and doors of 
No. 2 were between him and the curtains. 

“ Now,” said Martha laughing a knowing laugh, as she 
always did when she thought Peleg and Meg would be 
obliged to score one in her favor, “ you had your talk, and 
a long one I suppose it be, and do you know now what 
to do r 

“ We thought,” returned Peleg, as if conscious that 
she was possessed of .some hidden knowledge — “we 


meg: begins her voyage. 


189 

thought we’d ask yer opinion, Marthy ; we didn’t see the 
way quite so clear a ’ead as we might. A bit befogged we 
got, didn’t we, child V' 

“Yes,” replied Meg, somewhat embarrassed that she 
had so positively declared uncle able to settle the ques- 
tion, and after all it had been brought back to Mother 
Martha for arbitration. But she soon overcame this feel- 
ing, for she looked up coaxingly from the little stool and 
added, “ But, Mother Martha, we tried to make it so the 
letters and figures could — ” 

“ And manners,” added Miss Hamper, “ and manners 
too.” 

“ So the letters, figures, and — and manners,” repeated 
Meg — the last a little hesitatingly, with a look at Peleg 
which said, “You didn’t say anything about them — 
could come to the court, so 1 wouldn’t be sent away.” 

“ It’s just like I said,” returned Martha again laugh- 
ing. “ You come back to me after all your talks. Now, 
I’m not quite of a mind what to do, and you ain’t of a 
mind at all. So, Meg dear, if you’ll keep the house I’ll 
see Miss Thump, of Lunley Lane, and she can tell me. 
Samuel is well up in letters, figgers, and manners, but I 
don’t know where he gets ’em. I’ll find that out this 
very afternoon, and carry a dish of soup, too.” 

The house was brown with paint, not with time, al- 
though the latter may have given an extra shade to the 
paint ; the windows were well polished, and the door was 
ornamented by a brass knocker made presumably to imb 
tate the head of a sphinx, at least we will presume that, 
and inquire not into the designs of its designer, lest he 
should declare them to be something quite unlike. Be- 
neath the sphinx, on little brass hooks driven neatly into 
the door’s panels, hung slender brass rings, which held 
suspended from them, in turn, a large placard of drawing- 
board, on which, in sizable ornamental letters, with many 
scrolls, scrawls, curves, and quavers, at the corners, the 
top and the bottom of the placard, could be ascertained 
the fact that beyond this door could be seen “ Miss P. 
Barley, Instructress of Children and Youth, Male and 
Female.” 

The first, last, and only time as yet that the reader has 


190 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


met Miss Barley was upon the occasion of her withdrawal 
from the window of the second-floor front and almost 
simultaneous appearance, with outstretched arm, within 
the street doorway of the first floor,* where she grasped 
firmly by the coat collar Mr. Tom Barley, shook him 
warmly, and, like the puppy he was, swung him into the 
house. 

Such an action performed so easily and agilely may 
have excited wonder in the mind of the reader, but after 
seeing the above placard he will readily trace the train- 
ing of the muscle, from the daily grasping, shaking, and 
swinging of the boy of light weight, to the youth of such 
considerable heft that one of Tom’s avoirdupois was 
quickly mastered. 

It was as much metal as muscle with Miss P. Barley. 
Many a woman had as much and even more of the latter, 
but failed, or would have failed, if the attempt had been 
to accomplish what she did, because lacking the former. 
Metal is more to a woman than muscle, but when both 
are strong, as was the case with Miss Barley, let “ chil- 
dren” and “ youth” beware, let young men and old have 
care. It was doubtless a remembrance of these — metal 
and muscle — which led Isaac Harold to partially con- 
ceal himself by the nearest corner, the day on which he 
helped Tom Barley to the entrance on Cheatem Street. 
And he was not the only one who in after years would 
have ventured no nearer if there were any signs of the 
immediate exercise of either or both of these. 

A few days after Miss Hamper had called, with a 
dish of soup, upon Miss Thump, whose son Samuel had 
been declared ‘‘ well up in letters, figgers and manners,” 
little Meg, in a fresh nankeen frock, new blue pinafore, 
and just “ done up” yellow slat bonnet and white ruff, 
was demurely and thoughtfully holding Martha’s hand 
and passing out of the court, and in some measure, out 
of the old life. 

She would return to the court day after day, and it 
would be unchanged ; she would return to the old life, 
but it would never look exactly the same. That it would 
grow to be so distasteful that a separation would come. 
Mr. Hamper had fears, and hinted as much when he 


MEG BEGINS HER VOYAGE. I9I 

took her again to the ill-fitting coat, just before she took 
Martha’s hand and said tremblingly, 

“ Meg, ye’ll see craft now that ye never seed afore, but 
remember them that ’ave towed ye so far up stream. 
The new uns ’ll sail near in fair weather, but they’ll never 
look for ye in a storm ; it’s the old uns that ’ll never see 
ye sink. Good bye, Meg, I’ll think on ye all day, but it 
won’t bring the moan I feared it might, for I’ll find ye ’ere 
when I come back. Look well to the letters, figgers, and 
manners, child ; good bye,” and the hand which was 
rougher than the coat pressed for a moment the little 
brown head, while something dropped upon the ruff, 
rolled off upon the pinafore, and made a deep spot for 
the moment upon its blue, 

“You’re afraid, you’re afraid, uncle,” returned Meg, 
nestling into the rough coat, “ that the letters, figures, and 
manners will take me away from you. They can’t do it^ 
they can’t do it. I don’t care how big they are. I’ll fight 
them, if they try to. I’m your Meg, and I’ll tell them 
so.” At this the head rose defiantly, and shook itself at 
the imaginary enemies, letters, figures, and manners, and 
having subdued these to its satisfaction, the little hand 
stroked the bristly face. And did it know it ? the great 
pulsing heart, too, which so began to throb ’neath the 
stroking that it was pumping into the eyes what must drop 
soon, and not this time only enough to spot the blue in 
one small place, but enough to wet it all over, ^o he put 
her down and turned to his own room close by. And there 
the floodgates were lifted ; the heart had no need to pump, 
for the waters fell freely. 

“ She takes me into sich clean, clear water, and sich 
a smell o’ green grass an’ flowers ’long shore, as I never 
knowed afore,” said he to himself, when, within the next 
hour he was pulling on the muddy stream looking ever 
for the floating something, whether it was lifeless or what 
had never had life, whether it was man or mantle, woman 
or wood. 

Miss Thump and Samuel, according to agreement, met 
Miss Hamper and. Meg at the corner of the Wilton and 
Cross-Cut Lane, as that point was in the way of both and 
therefore caused neither party an unnecessary walk. The 


]I,9? ; THUMP'S CLIENT. ' 

former came down the Wilton just as the latter turned 
the corner from Cross-Cut Lane, and Samuel saw Meg 
:for the first time. 

The little bonnet had slipped back, so the face was 
less shielded, the cheeks were glowing with excitement, 
the eyes were bright and looking well about, lest the 
letters, figgers and manners ” should spring out from 
some hiding-place and carry her off bodily. 

Samuel, we learn from Miss Hamper, was “ well up ” 
in these, and he was also well up in the years of a youth 
— he was just turning upon fourteen, and had but a short 
time to remain under the tuition of Miss P. Barley before 
he was to be guided still farther on in the labyrinths of 
learning by one who had sounded deeper and returned 
more fearlessly a man — “ a male,” Miss Thump said — 
she at that time looked forward to the ministerial profes- 
sion as best suited to Samuel’s talents. .So, being well up 
in years, as we said, it was not surprising that he thought 
the wondering face framed in the slat bonnet the prettiest 
he had ever seen. And we cannot find the moment in 
his whole life when he ever changed his mind. 

“ Good day. Miss Martha,” said Susan, “and here she 
is. Good morning, Meg. This is Samuel : he is to take 
care of you. And you needn’t be afraid anything will 
happen to her, when he is with her.” This last she ad- 
dressed to Miss Hamper, who returned her salutation 
heartily, ^nd yet involuntarily tightened her hold upon 
the child’s hand. 

“ Good morning, little Meg,” said Samuel, advancing 
and taking her other hand, “ I’ll look out for you.” 

“ Did you tell them I was coming } ” asked Meg art- 
lessly, and giving her hand unhesitatingly to him. 

“ Tell who } the boys.^” replied Samuel. 

“ No, no, the figures, letters, and manners. I thought 
if they knew they’d be expecting me, and I wouldn’t 
have to tell them who I am to-day. if I don’t like them 
I shan’t stay where they are.” 

“ Oh, you will,” laughingly returned Samuel; “you’ll 
find them easy to know, and I can help you, if they get 
hard.” Here the hand lay more confidingly in his, and 
soon its fellow was disengaged from Mother Martha, and 


MEG BEGINS HER VOYAGE. 1 93 

the two children stepped on before, leading the way to the 
school of Miss P. Barley, Cheatem Street. 

That lady on the lookout for the new pupil, for Miss 
Thump had called and engaged for her, met the party 
smilingly, and shook them by the hand, although it 
seemed to her a more natural way to take everybody, 
friend or foe, by whatever surrounded the nape of the 
neck. 

“ And this is the dear little creature to be com — ” 
They were in the passage-way, with the door upon the 
side partly open. And her head disappeared through 
this partial opening while her voice suddenly could be 
heard saying, “ I heard you, I saw you — the third boy 
from head in the second form. I’ll — ” And here the head 
appeared again in the passage, while the arm which was 
nearest the door took its place, and from sundry jerkings 
of the shoulder to which it was attached, it is supposed 
that it was shaken defiantly at the third boy from the 
head, second form, while the hand grasped him in imag- 
ination — “mitted to my care.” Here the voice was 
charming, and the smile merely a parting of the lips, 
yet as much of a smile as Polly Barley could give. 

“ There is her peg. Thump ; I had it driven for her — 
a new one too, you see. Miss — what shall I call you ?” 

“ Hamper,” said Miss Thutnp, seeing Martha was a 
little bewildered, no doubt trying to reconcile the threat 
given to the erring third boy, second form, with the smile 
that followed it. 

“ Do not be worried. Miss Hamper, I shall take the 
best of care of her and — ” Here the head disappeared, and 
this time the arm went with it. Not a word was spoken, 
but the shoulder jerked more than ever, and the head 
staid longer, maybe to see the effect. 

They could not tell whether it was the same boy who 
was endangered or whether a new victim had unwittingly 
arisen. It was a subject of much speculation in Miss 
Hamper’s mind for days after, and Meg could never set- 
tle the matter, for being a new comer it would not do to 
remember these invasions upon law and order, so the 
third boy from head, second form, and all the rest es- 
caped for the time. These days when pupils entered — 


.194 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


especially when they were those who had never been at 
school before — were red-letter days, for Miss P. Barley 
never grasped firmly, shook warmly, nor swung agilely 
at such times, as it might frighten the timid, and discom- 
fit those who had been initiated elsewhere. 

Meg was led by Mother Martha’s or uncle’s hand 
every morning for the months that remained of Samuel’s 
stay at Cheatem Street, to the same corner where they 
had first met, and there he took her hand and led her and 
himself where they little dreamed then. The “ letters 
and figgers” speedily grew less formidable, the manners 
grew easier to make, and for two shillings a week and 
found, Meg was soon fairly on the way to reading, writ- 
ing, and ciphering. 

Peleg learned from her to read and write a few words, 
to keep his accounts more systematically, and Gaff also 
shared in the letters and “ figgers,” but never took much 
to the manners. 

One day when uncle was to lead her to the corner, it 
was noticed that he had on a plaid neckerchief and a 
smarter coat than was his wont, while his shoes had new 
leathern ties, and had been relieved of several layers of 
mud ; his hat had been brushed, brightened, and the inter- 
lining padded with paper, to make it a better fit; his face 
clean shaven, all of which had the look of one who had 
long pondered upon something, and having decided the 
best course to pursue was doing it at once, and that noth- 
ing could turn him from it. Meg noticed the smartened 
appearance, and so did Martha; but there were times 
when Peleg was not to be questioned, and his sister rec- 
ognizing this to be one of them, she said nothing. When 
they met Samuel he still kept the little hand, and the 
three walked on chatting and laughing carelessly. But 
as they neared Cheatem Street, Meg felt his hand grow 
moist and tremulous, and when they reached the corner 
it was withdrawn for a moment and wiped upon the leg 
of his ample breeches. When they reached the door he 
said he would like to see “ Miss Barley, if she war in no 
ways objectin’ to it.” 

In obedience to this request that lady appeared with 
a pencil in one side of her tightly-twisted hair, and a pen- 


MEG BEGINS HER VOYAGE, 1 95. 

holder in the other, while in her hand she held a goodly- 
sized ferule, that looked as if it might have been unspar- 
ingly applied with the hand that did not grasp firmly the 
coat collar, but upon regions in a line with the collar, and 
yet not covered by it. This look of wear caught the eye 
of Mr. Hamper, and she saw it, so she thought to allay 
his suspicions by saying, pointing to the pencil, the pen- 
holder, the ferule, and the ink upon her middle finger, 
“Making copies, sir.” 

Mr. Hamper had not a very definite idea of what 
“ copies” were, but knew it would be safe to be non- 
committal in a “ Yes, ma’m,” and so gave it. 

“ Walk into this room, sir,” said Miss Barley leading 
the way to an apartment in the rear, as she inferred from 
his manner that his business was of a private nature. 

As he slipped his hat from his head, the wad of paper 
from under the interlining slipped also. This he quickly 
slid into his pocket, while the hat he slid under his arm ; 
and closing the door after him sat down near the instruc- 
tress of “Children and Youth, Male and Female,” just a 
little awed at his own daring and her dignified presence, 
and yet, with that same look of determination that Martha 
had read early in the morning. 

He felt for the hat under his arm, then for the wad 
in his pocket, and assuring himself that both were safe 
he began, “ I’m Peleg Hamper, ma’m.” 

“ I inferred so,” said Miss Barley, “ from your com- 
ing with Meg. You are her uncle, I suppose. She has 
told me of you.” 

And so Meg had talked of him, and was not ashamed 
to call him uncle. This emboldened him still more, and 
he plunged in. 

“ Yes, she calls me uncle, but ye can see, ma’m, she’s 
born a lady ; so I thought as she seems to sail easy with 
the letters, and hggers, and manners, that a ’eavier cargo 
wouldn’t ’arm ’er a bit, and she might stow away some 
kind o’ moosic.” 

“ Well, well,” began Miss P. Barley, scratching her 
head with the pencil in one side of the twist. _ 

“ I know what ye’re agoin’ to say, ma’m,” interrupted 
Mr. Hamper. “Ye mean ye can’t give it for two shillin’s 


196 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


a week and found, and I don’t ask it, ma’m, I don’t ask 
it. All I asks be, that wot ye do ask — not now — but 
when the proper time comes, ye shall ’ave wotsomdever 
it might be, ma’m. Give ’er full sail, ma’m; I doesn’t 
want it reefed a bit. Give all the riggin’, and jest call 
on Peleg Hamper for the cost, ma’m. That be all I’ve 
got to say, and I’m keepin’ ye from yer craft, so I’ll go.” 
And he drew the wad from his pocket and adjusted it 
under the interlining. 

“But,” began Miss Barley, “you do not say upon 
what kind of an instrument you wish her to learn. 
There’s the piano, the guitar, the harp, the organ, the — ” 

“ Beg yer pardon, ma’m, I won’t trouble ye to say ’em 
all,” said Mr. Hamper, with a perplexed look upon his 
face, and nervously pulling at the wad of paper with such 
force as to endanger the interlining. “ Anything, ma’m, 
or everything. Ye and Meg can make it as ye please, 
only it must be moosic that she’d be bred to, if she war 
where she ought to be. Ye can see it, 'er build even, if 
the riggin’ don’t suit — everybody can see ’er build,” and 
he looked as proud as if Meg had been his own. 

“ I will talk with Meg as you say, sir,” and here the 
penholder took its turn to come out of the twist and 
scratched the head ; “ she is an uncommon child.” 

“ That be jist what they all say,” and he arose re- 
peating the assurance that she had only to send her bill 
and it would be immediately cashed. 

Besides the honor of having one in her school who 
was a musician, there was another inducement for Miss 
Barley to offer no objections to this arrangement — the 
cashing at once, which was not a thing she often met 
with ; so Mr. Hamper was cordially invited to call again 
and inspect the school and its work. 

“ Thank ye, ma’m,” said he, “ it be a place. I’m sorry 
to say, I war never ’eaded for when I war young, and I 
be too old now. Good day, ma’m, good day.” 

Meg ran out to him as he went through the passage,.. 
caught his hand, and said, “ Good bye, uncle.” 

He took her up, kissed her laughingly, and set her' 
down with a “ Good bye, Meg, child.” 

Instinctively the children saw there was a love be- 


GLOIV AND BURN, OWLIE. 1 97 

tween the two too sacred for derision, so they looked on 
wonderingly, and raised not a finger or a laugh. 

So Meg learned to play upon the guitar and, of course, 
to sing with it, and the voice was sweet not powerful, and 
full of something that drew all unto it. 

Samuel staid in Cheatem Street longer than he should, 
and at last had to go. After that he saw Meg not so often ; 
and when she knew in after years that he was the junior 
member of Trout & Thump, she grew shy, and knew him 
no longer as she had known him in their childhood. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

“glitter, glisten, glow, and burn, OWLIE." 

The clerk in the room, which anybody might enter, 
was drowsy, the long law documents were fading steadily, 
and the words growing to the length of the documents 
as they, too, sunk quietly in the distance. The quill had 
fallen in the midst of this vision, when both it and the 
clerk were aroused by a quick, though not a harsh voice 
saying, “ Blot ! sir, blot ! and a big one, too." 

“Yes. sir," meekly came from the arousing clerk. 

“ Is that the way to do your work, sir ? Is that the 
way Trout & Thump allow their business to be con- 
ducted, sir ?" 

The owner of the voice was somewhat bowed, but by 
what it was not evident, for he was not old, yet his hair 
was white in many places, and in the rest an indescrib- 
able color, perhaps as near a clay as anything else. It 
was long and hung in sort of half curls over his shoulders, 
but in color, in texture, in length it was not first-class 
hair, and it had not turned from age, for his face was not 
old. Labor had not bowed him, his hands showed that ; 
trouble had not bowed him, for although he had a deter- 
mined earnest look in his large gray eyes, he was not a 
man bowed by grief. It might be from the habit he had 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


198 

of leaning upon the large golden head of an owl which 
looked out of a pair of small diamond eyes as it sat upon 
a thick ebony cane. 

“ No, sir; no, sir; I assure you not, sir,” replied the 
now fairly awakened clerk. “ We are not busy, and I was 
up last night.” Here the mouth quivered a little, and the 
owl must have seen it, for the cane was raised at the 
words “ I was up,” and intended coming down hard 
upon the floor in disapprobation of the being “ up,” but 
it stopped short and struck softly on the boards, for the 
quiver had struck softly on the heart of the owner of the 
mongrel hair. 

“ With whom V' He tried to say it harshly, but he 
was too much touched for that. 

“ With — with my mother.” 

“ Are you sure ?” and the owl’s eyes glittered and 
gleamed searchingly. 

“ I wish I was not,” returned the quivering mouth 

“Why.^^” 

“ Because I am not sure of having her long, sir.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ She’s sick, sir ; very sick.” 

“Where.?” 

“ In Blue Bottle Court, last house at the end, sir, up 
two flights.” 

“ All right, sir,” and the owl was leaned heavily upon. 
“ Mr. Thump engaged ?” asked the visitor, nodding his 
head in the direction of that gentleman’s private room. 

“No, sir,” said the clerk, wondering and quivering, 
the former that it could be all right to have a loved 
mother where his 'was, and the latter that anyone could 
be so heartless as to think it so. “ Shall I tell him a 
client, sir.?” 

“No, no; just open the door and I’ll stump in, 
Owlie and I. — If it were not for her,” and he nodded to 
the bird, “ I should not walk much, young man. I’ll call 
up two flights, last house from the end, sir. Blue Bottle 
Court, call and see for myself. Sh’an’t tell you when, sir, 
and then I’ll catch you all if you are to be caught. We 
know how to do it, Owlie, we know,” and the earnest 
gray eyes read the sad young face before them. 


GLOW AND BURN, OWLIE. 


199 


“ A gentleman, Mr. Thump'; shall he walk in ?” and 
the clerk felt the door pushed still wider open while the 
gentleman answered for Mr. Thump. 

“ Shall he walk in ? Of course he shall. Mr. Thump, 
I am glad to see you, sir ; glad to take the hand of an 
honest lawyer. How do I know it ? you Vvill say. Never 
mind, sir, never mind ; I know it, that’s enough. Do I 
interrupt you ? If I do let me wait till the point is 
clear. I never like to come upon a man who has a 
point half settled, for the chances are, if he is inter- 
rupted, that point is a dead loss to him. You will ask 
me my name in a moment ; I’ll save all the time I can 
and tell you. Call me Hansom, sir, John Hansom. 
That was quite appropriate when I was younger, sir, 
and I don’t flatter myself to say it ; but now I am old, 
and have to lean upon Owlie most of the time when 
I’m on my legs. She’s sharp, that owl, sir; you wouldn’t 
think it, but she is. I’ll sit down here, sir; this seat 
looks easy. I’ll sit down and get breath while you finish 
that point you were at when I came in ; and then I’ll 
give you a point, yes, several points, sir, and you shall 
make the most of them.” 

Having thus delivered himself, Mr. Hansom sat down, 
by holding the side of the chair with one hand and Owlie 
with the other, took off his hat and felt his hair as if it 
were a matter of some solicitude to him that the curls 
were all right and properly hung, then stroked his beard 
which matched his hair as nearly as it could, but was not 
so long and flowing, put Owlie and the cane on which 
she stood directly in front, between his knees, and leaned 
upon her. 

Mr. Thump was, of course, much surprised at the 
entrance of his visitor, and still more so at the “ points” 
he had given him in his few moment’s speech. There 
was no opportunity for reply, so he stood up and respect- 
fully listened, and when the pause came he said, “ I as- 
sure you with truth, Mr. Hansom, that I had nothing of 
importance under consideration, and am at liberty, when 
you shall deem it proper, to attend to anything you wish 
to put under advisement. My partner, Mr. Trout, is not 
in at present ; he is an older and abler — ” 


200 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Stump, stump, stump came down the ebony cane, 
and with such force that Mr. Thump stopped short. 

“ I know he is not in, that is why I came. I shall 
never come when he is in. He is older, I know, and that 
is just why I do not wish to see him. I am old enough 
myself. I do not want age, sir, I want honesty. I want 
scruples, sir, scruples of conscience, not age. He is abler, 
yes, I am glad he is ; if he was not, sir, I should never 
seek you. He is abler, yes, abler in wickedness, deep, 
underhanded wickedness, with a bland surface ; you don’t 
know him, sir, but I do. When I have given you my 
points you’ll cut your wisdom teeth and not look at the 
world so innocently. I know all about you, sir. Mother 
Susan, the cottage, the funeral, and all. How I know I 
will tell you sometime, not now. If I have been sharp 
enough to find out all that, I shall expect you to be 
sharp enough to find out all I want to know, and more 
too — some things that other people want to know.” 

Here he paused for breath, and to pat the bird, whose 
eyes glittered so brightly that one might almost say they 
saw the points and were eager to have Mr. Thump do the 
same. 

“ But,” began the attorney, “ perhaps you are not 
aware that partners are expected to share the responsi- 
bility of cases, to consult upon the difficult, and to share 
the fees if any are earned. Honor compels me to make 
this in common with Mr. Trout, the senior member of 
this firm.” 

‘‘That is just what I was looking for,” cried Mr. 
Hansom gleefully and leaning more upon the bird. 
“ Scruples, scruples ! I knew they would come. But, 
sir, if I prove to you that your honorable senior partner 
has been for months actively, and for years tacitly en- 
gaged upon a case which he has kept from you, then 
what would you say of honor ? If I prove to you that a 
wrong done years and years ago must be righted ; if I 
prove to you that the so-called illegitimate must become 
the legitimate ; that the shame cast upon purity and in- 
nocence must be swept away forever, and give its victims 
rest in their graves ; if I prove to you that your partner 
knows of all this, and is plotting, planning, and will soon 


GLOW AND BURN, OWL/E. 


201 


be executing — for what ? To enrich himself, sir, and 
let the lawful heir live under the shadow of doubt and 
under the weight of wrong ! If I prove this, sir, where 
are your scruples ?” 

Instantly the visits, of Marplot and Wallace came to 
the mind of the young attorney. At the time they ex- 
cited his suspicion, as we have already recorded, but Mr. 
Trout’s plausible excuse for their long, close conversation 
— that of old friendship purely, and not legal consultation, 
had disarmed him upon that score, but he had long found 
his partner preoccupied, and hence neglectful of minor 
matters, which rendered him quite unreliable as an aid 
to him in cases where he needed, or thought he did, the 
counsel that experience could give. So, Mr. Hansom’s 
offer to prove certain things did not find barren soil. 

“ If I am needed for righting wrong, for making just 
the unjust, and it be necessary to withhold the proceed- 
ings from my partner, I shall have no scruples, Mr. Han- 
som, about undertaking the case,” replied Mr. Thump 
with an honest zeal that betokened a heart touched for 
the suffering, and a hand eager to stretch forth in aid. 

Stump, stump,' went the ebony cane, while the dia- 
mond eyes glowed warmly this time. “ I knew that 
would send those particular scruples to the wind. So 
now I shall come to the points at once, sir, and expect 
you to make the most of them. But you are a rising 
man, sir, and an honest one too, so that keeps you from 
springing up as it 'were. Honesty pays, sir, in the end, 
but in these days it don’t pay as soon as it ought to, so I 
know you are not a man of means ; but you will be, sir, 
some day, mark my words. We know, don’t we Ovvlie 

He laughed as he patted the golden bird with one 
hand, and with the other drew out a silken purse and 
laid it upon the table before the astonished attorney. 

“ It is uncertain, sir, what you will be called upon to 
make of the points,” he said in an explanatory way, as 
he raised his hand to silence Mr. Thump’s remonstrance 
against so much of a “ la-y down ” before any service or 
advice had been given. “You may be called upon to 
travel, sir ; you may be called upon to search, sir, above 
the earth and below ; how can I tell what you will do 


202 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


with the points? It takes money, sir,, pounds and shil- 
lings to make points work right in this case. So you 
will need it all, and maybe more, and thank heaven 
John Hansom has got it, and plenty of it, and is not 
afraid to spend it, sir. Nothing must be left undone to 
make all these points tell in one great point — the find- 
ing of somebody, and that somebody is the one who 
has been wronged, wronged, bitterly wronged," and the 
head fell upon the hand, the curls trembled, the breast 
heaved, a great sob come from the heart, and all was 
silent a moment. When he looked up, the diamond eyes 
had a companion — a tear. 

He hurried on to begin the statement of his case as 
he, saw a disposition on the part of the lawyer to give 
sympathy for whatever might so affect him. 

“ We are ready now, are we not? Ah, yes, quite as 
it should be," he said approvingly as he saw Mr. Thump 
draw out pencil and paper for noting the case. “ You see 
these points have pierced me so, day and night, for 
long, long years, that I know them each and all so well, I 
forget it is not the case with anyone else. Now, Owlie," 
he addressed the bird confidingly, ‘‘ if I leave anything 
out, glitter, glisten, glow, and burn till I think of all that 
will make the points." 

The bird of gold was passive, but evidently impressed 
with the part she was to do : keep a lookout in the dark, 
and see that all was brought to light that should be. 

“I suppose, sir," said the client, “ I had best go back 
to the point that laid the foundation for all the points 
that are the troublesome ones. I’ll be short as I can and 
yet make ’em sharp, sir ; sharp where they ought to be. 
The first one is, that maYiy years ago a cross, crabbed, 
bristling old fellow who gave a clenched fist instead of an 
open palm, sent adrift upon the world a son who had 
from a dying mother received a few hundred pounds. The 
place from which he was sent adrift was Ivandale, sir, and 
the man who held the first was the last to bear the name 
of Radnor, and well it is, sir, if it could not be borne any 
more creditably than he bore it. I see you look as if 
you had heard this before. You would not be a sharp 
man, sir, if. you had not, for many of your cloth have 


GLOW AND BURN, OWL/E. 


203 


looked for heirs and found them, too, but they turned 
out to be trumped up claims; and so one and another 
having been burned by reaching for the rusty old estate, 
it has been dropped. But the Crown has its eye on it, 
and the Crown, sir, must not have it, for it belongs to 
somebody. ’ This is the main point. 

“ Now, then, this son with his few hundred pounds, 
learned to labor, sir, to labor. Where he got the good 
sense from to do it, I don’t know, and so do not care, but 
he did it at Wenham, as pretty a village, sif, as you ever 
saw. He learned to make knives and forks — cutlery, to 
be technical, I suppose you would say. He dropped his 
name and became plain William Seebold ; here again he 
showed his good sense. He rose in the shop, in the vil- 
lage, and in the world, just as he deserved, sir. He had a 
wife and one child, Mary.” Here the grip on the golden 
bird, who was listening attentively, grew very tight with 
one hand, as the other stroked nervously the beard and 
tremblingly put back a curl upon the shoulders. “Just 
before the wife died she learned that their daughter 
might some day be Lady of Ivandale, and made the father 
promise that this fact should be left with the child, or 
some one who would care for her if he should be taken 
also. It may be well, and it may not be well that he did, 
sir, for it is a damp old place, and gives everybody who 
enters it cramps and creaks. This old fellow of the 
clenched fist was like a blood-hound after his children, 
whom he hated. One by one he hunted them here and 
there upon the earth, wreaked vengeance upon them if 
they were happy, and if they were wretched, so much the 
merrier felt he, and left them unmolested, knowing that 
misery would soon take them off. William Seebold was 
the last and best, and the old man — I am ashamed to say 
it, sir, to say that so unnatural a thing can be done — the 
old man lighted the match to the long row of workshops, 
to the elegant counting-room, to the luxurious home of 
his son, and then danced like a savage about the flames, 
sir. The son saw him, read it all at a glance, and dropped 
dead from the shock, and no wonder, sir, no wonder. 
That is the second point. 

“ The child was left with no home and no money, but 


204 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


a statement written by the father of his birth, his life at 
Ivandale, and his reasons for change of name, with the 
expressed hope that she might never find it necessary to 
lay claim to a single stone of the old walls, which had been 
a curse to all who had been born within them so far as 
he could learn. The arms of friends and neighbors were 
outstretched to the child, but those to whom she turned 
belonged to Major Ray, a man of big heart and ample 
means. His wife was dead, and his only child was much 
from home, so she lay in his arms, poor child, and slid 
into his heart, as she did into everybody’s who knew her, 
sir, everybody’s.” 

Mr. Hansom was taken just then with a slight cough, 
and it gave Mr. Thump time to note down a few things 
it seemed necessary to be exact about, as the elderly gen- 
tleman had spoken so rapidly, and so engrossed his at- 
tention, he found himself a little behind with the writing 
of the points. 

“ Let me say, sir, here, in justice to Major Ray, that 
he did not know of William Seebold’s ancestry when he 
took his daughter as his own. Time passed on and she 
grew to girlhood, to womanhood — a glorious womanhood, 
sir, such a womanhood as you seldom see, — but I won’t 
talk of that now. Richard Ray — ” 

“ Beg your pardon, Mr. Hansom, let me ask if you did 
not know Miss Seebold "i I ask not from curiosity, sir, 
but from a desire for a clear understanding of all the 
proof I can bring to bear,” said the attorney respectfully. 

“ You are right, sir, to make clear the points; that is 
why I am here to make them plain. Yes, I knew her. I 
was her friend.” The voice trembled a little and the 
diamond eyes glittered almost savagely at the attorney 
for the pain they knew this question had given their mas- 
ter, they felt it in his tightened clasp, but Mr. Thump 
only read the sorrow of an old man for misfortune that 
had come upon a friend of his young days. He seemed 
lost for a moment, as if searching in his memory for the 
place he left off. Seeing this the lawyer said gently, 
“ You were speaking of Richard Ray, Mr. Hansom.” 

“ Ah, yes. To make it short, Richard came home 
often, and at last stayed till Mary Seebold became his — ” 


GLOW AND BURN, OWLIE. 205 

the cough again annoyed him — “his wife. That is the 
third point, sir.” 

“ Before their marriage,” he continued after a mo- 
ment’s pause, “ the major visited the castle of Ivandale, 
and came back declaring his daughter by adoption, and 
soon to be by marriage, should never lay claim to it, for 
his own and the Glentworth estate, left by his wife, were 
enough for all. He always hinted at having his slumbers 
mysteriously disturbed, but that is not worth the telling; 
it’s more likely to be one of his jokes, he was full of them. 
Well the three, the major, the son, and the daughter lived 
as happily as three ever did ; but a blight crept in, sir, 
some one poisoned the young wife’s mind, and as her 
husband had been so much from home before she knew 
him, the story was plausible, and it preyed upon her so, 
the thought that she had wronged another, that with her 
child Margaret she — she — fl — fled.” The diamond eyes 
had more than one companion now, and Mr. Hansom 
did not attempt to conceal his grief. 

After it had outwardly passed away, Mr. Thump 
asked almost tenderly, as if he would revive the past 
sparingly, “ Was there anyone who had an object in 
this?” 

“There you have come to the point of points, sir,” 
said Mr. Hansom looking sternly up. All traces of 
tears were now gone; the cane came down stump, stump. 
“ There was, sir, there was, and he knew them all well, too, 
the cunning devil, when he drew them in his net. The 
mother fled with Margaret ; the father after vain search- 
ing went into service and tried to die or be killed, but he 
lived until four years ago, when the fever of India struck 
what the bullets of the enemy liad time and again re- 
fused. This I can prove, sir. The papers shall be put 
in your hands. The major sank under it — what else could 
he do ? and the only one, a distant relative to heir the 
property of Richard Ray, has been on the watch far and 
j^ear — he is a client of your partner — and by shaming the 
heiress of Ivandale into withholding claim to the Ray 
estate, he will give it to himself and his attorney. Now, 
sir, she is alive. Find her! find her !” 

“ But,” asked Mr. Thump after taking time to recover 


2o6 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


from the disclosure regarding his partner, “ what of this 
client? Who is he, what is he, and where is he to be 
found ?” 

Mr. Hansom, who was looking now at Owlie, turning 
her round and round, as if to say, ‘‘ Do you see anything 
left in the dark ?” seemed to regard these questions more 
as the suggestions of the golden bird, than as the legal 
queries of Mr. Thump. 

What of this client? True enough; let me see, 
there is a reasonable amount of him physically, but it’s 
not well put together ; he was jointed with too much oil, 
sir, far too much, but the supply never §eems in danger 
of failing him, and always more plenty when he is doing 
his worst. You see, I account for it in this wise. He 
sweats mentally, morally, and spiritually under the load 
he carries, the wicked load, and not being able to sweat 
enough in those three ways, for it must be a heavy bur- 
den, sir, to haul about on one’s soul night and day, he 
lets off some of it physically ; and so he is oily most of the 
time, and, of course, he must wipe this oil off, or he’d get 
so clogged he' couldn’t stir a finger. So, that is the what 
of him, Mr. Lawyer, oil and handkerchief, and I wish 
there was nothing else to fight in the ‘ who he is’ and the 
where he is.” 

“ Major Ray left one brother, the only relative near, 
and he dying left a daughter, who has gone, sir, gone. 
Now, where has she gone, and why has she gone, and 
who induced her to go ? These are points within the 
main point for you to work out sharp and clear. Aim 
them where they deserve to be aimed. Don’t wrong any- 
body with unjust suspicions, sir. Be sure of your game, 
and let fly upon it without mercy, for somebody, and I 
have every reason to believe it is the same one I have 
told you of, has had no mercy on the pure and innocent. 
Hunt when you have found proof, sir, hunt him down, 
ride him to earth ; if hound and horse fail get fresh ones. 
So long as John Hansom has a shilling, it shall be given 
till this wrong is righted, and the pure and good can 
sleep peacefully in their graves. Now, again, who is 
he? If the daughter of the major’s brother be gone 
beyond finding, he heirs the Ray estate. Does not 


GLOW AND BURN, OWLIE. 2oy 

that establish a point, sir? I think so; then clinch it, 
close and tight.” 

“ It would show a motive for the putting out of the 
way the only one who stood between him and the estate, 
Mr. Hansom,” replied the young lawyer calmly, as he 
seemed balancing the for and against of his client’s rea- 
soning. He had to acknowledge to himself that a cur- 
sory view of the matter made the fors far weightier. 

“ That’s it ; you grasp like a sharp one. I like that 
in you, Mr. Thump, I assure you I do. Now, what he is 
I have told ; but I will add, to make the point no sharper 
than it deserves, that he is a cowardly, niggardly, oily 
sneak, who is always sliding off to the right — I mean the 
right hand, sir, understand me, for I never knew him on 
the right in any other way, and when he has gone that 
way at a shambling pace, as far as he can, then he is off 
to the left. You don’t want to see him but once to know 
him again, sir. Now, where is he to be found, in Poorly’s 
Resort, just off the — ” 

“ Beg pardon, I know where it is,” interrupted the at- 
torney, as Mr. Hansom looked questioningly at Owlie, 
as if he had forgotten just what it was “ off,” and thought 
the diamond eyes might send him a ray of light on it. 
“ It runs from the Dragon Road to Quinby.” 

That’s it, that’s it,” cried the elderly gentleman glee- 
fully, “ and when I’m through with him. I’ll hand him over 
to a veritable dragon. That’s it, so I will.” Stump, stump, 
stump went the ebony cane, and glitter, glisten, and glow 
looked the diamond eyes. 

“ Now, Mr. Hansom, let me see that I understand 
you aright. You wish me to find the true heir, the child 
of Richard and Mary Ray ; you wish also, the where- 
abouts of the niece of Major Ray traced, even if it be to 
her last resting-place, as you have every reason to sus- 
pect that there alone can she be found, and having done 
these, either or both, to prepare what evidence I shall 
obtain for the punishment of the guilty party. You 
know how strange are the workings of law, and it looks 
more than likely I shall be forced to look into the work- 
ings of my partner in this unhappy affair, so you must 
not expect the first point — the finding of the heir to 


208 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


be the first cleared legally. I may find it necessary to 
accuse and convict before she can be found. I say 
this, Mr. Hansom, that you may not think the last to 
be gained is the least worked for, if things should take 
that turn.” 

“ And that is just the turn I desire,” replied the 
other, “ if she be only found in time. She will soon be 
of age to heir it, and the Crown must not swallow it.” 

“ One thing you have not stated — a proof of the death 
of the lord of Ivandale,” said Mr. Thump, looking care- 
fully over the notes he had taken. 

“ Ha ! that is one thing you kept in the dark, Owlie, 
didn’t you, bird so sharp } but maybe I did’nt give you 
time to shoot it out of your eyes so bright.” Then 
turning to his attorney said, “ That’s a point you must 
establish clearly. I grant I cannot do it. So, you see, I 
told you truly when I said you might find travel neces- 
sary — to Wenham, to Ivandale; how do I know where 
the points will send you, sir V' 

“ Then I will lay out my course in this matter as soon 
as practicable. Meantime I may need to communicate 
with you, so I shall need to know where you may be 
found by pen, or in person,” and Mr. Thump drew forth 
a private note-book, wrote John Hansom, and paused for 
the where. 

“ If you should desire a word with me, sir, the blind 
man at the corner of Lunley Lane and the Wilton will 
bring me speedy news of it.” 

“ But he is not always there, and I might need you 
without delay.” 

“Then send to Blue Bottle Court, No. 4, care of Isaac 
Harold. Now I am through with the points, sir, Owlie 
and I, sir, we may as well take ourselves off.” 

He began to adjust the curls, straighten the beard, 
drew out a fine yellow silken handkerchief and rubbed 
the bird, the band of chaste gold that held her to the 
ebony, and was just drawing his coat sleeve across the 
band of his soft hat to brush away the bits of dust 
that might have lodged upon it, when a thought, or a 
point, or a suggestion, or a direction, or something oc- 
curred to him, and he sat down again. It was some mo- 


GLOJV AND BURN, OIVLIE. 


209 


ments before it became apparent which of these was to 
be ventilated. The cane stumped, the eyes glistened, 
the hand that guarded both trembled a little, and at last 
came, “ Did you get any clue to the who or what of the 
poor girl you and your good Mother Susan buried, sir.^” 

The lawyer started, and after a few moments’ reflec- 
tion said, “ No, Mr. Hansom, I am sorry to say we did 
not, but I hope and pray the heir to so much abundance 
as this unknown and unfound client should possess, has 
not met such a fate. That never occurred to you, did it ? 
And let me see” — here he turned to his notes — “ that could 
hardly be, for her name was probably Maria, and the one 
we seek is Margaret. The one found had about her every 
evidence of wealth, and our client, if she has been left 
to the world, as we fear she has, would not be likely to 
have such about her. I hardly think that can be, and 
yet if you ask me the proof upon which I give my opinion, 
I cannot tell you.” 

“ Quite right, sir, quite right. I find some things have 
a firm footing outside and some inside. The inside ones 
are the safest to go by, but the world don’t take it so, 
sir. Proof it wants, tangible, plausible, laudable proof, 
but it cannot always be got at. Now, I have met men, 
and I knew, sir, I knew they were not right in here,” 
laying his hand upon the great silk button that came 
probably just above the apex of the heart — at all events 
it was so near that it proved a good guide for the law- 
yer, whose eyes were following Mr. Hansom’s hand. 
“ How do I know it ? By proof ? No. By what, sir ? by 
what 

“ Convictions internal. You are, no doubt, blest with 
the power of discerning the real from the spurious,” Mr. 
Thump returned, quite interested in the turn things had 
taken. 

“Power? power? No, no, sir, it is not a power. A 
power is what one can wield, make use of, shut down 
upon with a valve, call into work if it is needed. That 
is what 1 call a power. But this that I have rules me, I 
don’t rule it,” and Mr. Hansom stumped the ebony cane 
as if it were a sore thing to be held by a power if it did 
benefit him. 


210 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


As he finished the last stump, the attorney suggested, 
It may be instinct ; that may be a name that would 
please better. An instinctive dread at the approach of 
evil may be so deeply implanted in your nature that it 
gives you warning.” 

“ Instinct. No, it is not instinct, sir ; it is instinct 
in a dog — I am not a dog. No, you can’t tell me what 
it is.” 

“ But it may be the same, only more highly developed 
in you, just in proportion as your other faculties are 
higher and more numerous than those of a dog. His are 
of the mortal, yours of the spiritual.” 

“I can’t make it out; I never could,” replied the 
elderly gentleman, shaking his head, “ it comes and it 
goes ; it is a part of me, and it isn’t a part of me, sir. It 
says, ‘ John Hansom, that person is good, but weak ; that 
one is bad, but bold ; that one is so and so, and this one 
is so and so,’ sometimes even to the name. Sometimes 
all it says is ‘ Motive good ’ or ‘ motive bad.’ Instinct 
never does that. Conviction never does that. The more 
we talk about it, the farther we will get from it, sir ; so I 
will say, that the more I listen to it, the more I think a 
starting for Wenham at once is what it now says. But 
first, sir, let me know how you found out the name of the 
dead girl.” 

“ She wore a ring inscribed, ‘ Henry to Maria.’ ” 

At this the cane gave a short quick stump, the dia- 
mond eyes gleamed, glittered, glistened, and burned, as if 
touched with a new flame, and Mr. Hansom replied with 
quickened breath, “ Are you sure, sir ; quite sure ? Where 
is it ? who has it ? It must have been taken from her by 
the folks at the morgue, for after she was on the slab she 
hadn’t it, she hadn’t — I was passing by when she lay 
there,” he quickly added as he saw Mr. Thump’s look of 
inquiry and wonder, “ and I went in, I went in, sir ; I 
always go in when the convictions, as you call them, tell 
me to. I saw no ring.” 

“ It was taken from her hand by the man who found 
her, Peleg Hamper, as honest a man as ever sat at the 
prow or stepped upon the land,” the lawyer returned 
with a glow upon his cheeks and an earnestness in his 


GLOW- AND BURN, OWL/E. 


2II 


voice that did not escape the keen gaze of Mr. Hansom ; 
“ but, unfortunately the only door that opened to show 
him the way to make a living was the unpleasant one of 
looking for what floats in the Thames.” 

“And I am not sure that it is unfortunate for him, are 
you, Owlie ?” He turned the cane so that he could look 
into the bird’s eyes: he nodded to her, and she sent back 
a gleam. “ I do not call it unfortunate, sir, for anybody 
to find a way to make a living honestly ; I do not, indeed. 
But the ring, sir, has he got it 

“ No, he kept it till the time of her burial, and then 
slipped it upon her finger, first showing it to all who were 
in the room. He seemed to think that the testimony 
might be needed that there was such a ring.” 

“ It should have been retained, sir ; sentiment should 
have been put aside and the ring retained. If Owlie and 
I had always let sentiment run away with us, where now 
would we be. I say again, it should have been retained, 
Mr. Thump,” 

“ So I thought, Mr. Hansom,” quietly returned the 
attorney. “ But now I must look to my journey. I can- 
not tell when the coaches start, if I am to go by coach, 
until I refer to the best route.” 

“The coach, the easiest, safest, speediest, and alto- 
gether the most accommodating, starts from Cross Bow 
at eleven o’clock, sir, and, let me see, you will reach 
Wenham the day after to-morrow by nightfall. If you 
will be ready for so speedy a start, I will engage a seat 
inside, for my road takes me near there, and I know the 
innkeeper; a clever man he is, too. Take warm wrap- 
pings, Mr. Thump, the air is chill, and the open country 
you will find even cold. So if you say eleven to-night, 
sir, I will engage ; if not till to-morrow, I will do the 
same.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Hansom, if not the least trouble to 
you, it would save me much time, for I must arrange 
•some business affairs with my partner, and the clerk I 
can hardly spare, as he, too, will be busy.” Even then 
the lawyer began to look upon the table for what must 
receive immediate attention. 

Again Mr. Hansom arose, but this time took things 


212 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


not so deliberately; the bird was not re-brushed nor the 
hat re-rubbed. He shook hands with Mr. Thump, and 
that gentleman was about opening for him the door into 
the outer room, when, catching sight of the clerk, who 
was again drowsing, he said, “Needy, sir, deserving.? 
worthy .?” at the same time nodding stiffly, lest the curls 
might be disarranged, in the direction of the high desk 
over which the clerk was nodding, and the high stool 
upon which he sat. 

“ Yes, sir, I think so ; Mother Susan found him living 
in poverty, and, as we could make use of him, we took 
him. He is honest, apt, gentle, and — ” 

“And drowsy, sir, very drowsy,” interrupted Mr. 
Hansom shaking merrily. 

“That is hardly to be wondered at,” replied the other. 
“ His mother is hopelessly ill, and he cares for her at 
night.” 

“ Ah, poor woman, she better go, she better. A sight 
of trouble, Mr. Thump, a sight in this world. Coach goes 
at eleven, sir. Best seat inside. Good day, good day. 
Let me grasp the hand of an honest lawyer,” and he 
shook warmly the hand that came forth to meet his, 
passed out the door so softly that the quill in the fingers 
of the worn-out clerk still lay tipped up from the paper, 
the head still rested on the hands, and the eyelids still 
held themselves together as if sealed. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

DOES SAMUEL SEE IN IT A CHANCE ? 

Martha Hamper had been called upon to attend 
a poor woman whom she knew long before in Poorly’s 
Resort, and who was in immediate danger of adding one 
to the half-fed mouths and to the scantily-clothed limbs 
that opened wishfully and kicked feebly when the hard 
fate that sent them to choose Poorly’s as their resort upon 


SAMUEL'S CHANCE. 


213 


earth dawned upon them, and this dawning was never 
long behind their actual appearance. They always began 
the battle early, even after a few breaths, and they never 
ceased till the last resort opened to them, sometimes 
before they could buy, beg, or steal for themselves the 
needed bread — but oftener, sad to record, oftener after 
they had long ceased to think there lay any difference 
between the buying and the stealing. 

Martha had been summoned away, Peleg and Gaff 
had gone up stream, and Meg left to the books she 
usually enjoyed, the guitar she always found soul in, the 
pencil that was just completing the outline and begin- 
ning the shading of Snatcher at high tide, the knitting 
that wove into its meshes so many dreams of what might 
be, found solace in none of them. Each in turn was 
tried, but each in turn was thrown aside. An unrest 
possessed her, and fearing it might be the coming of the 
washing, washing, she suddenly decided to seek the cheery 
presence of Miss Thump. 

“ He will be in his office until time for tea, and I can 
chat with Mother Susan awhile and be home long before 
that,” she said to herself, as she discarded the blue knot 
from her throat, superseded it by a lavender and then 
by a crimson, and that by — well, by not very gently clos- 
ing the box into which she had tossed them one after 
another, and going back to the touching up of Snatcher’s 
prow with a little more light here and a little more shade 
there, and after all but a little it got of either — for soon 
again the small glass reflected her face, not so ill-pleased 
this time at the effect of a cherry knot upon the meeting 
of the whitest and glossiest collar. “ Strange,” she said 
to the ribbon, which she smoothed, patted, pulled, and 
looped — “ strange that I did not think of you before ; 
cherry is what I should always wear. And here is the 
mate to it, only narrower, for just that little nook,” and 
down slipped that made of “ the narrower” into the most 
bewitching place such a knot^ can rest. A certain depres- 
sion that is always found by the side of a gracefully laid 
twist of brown hair, that is wavy but not curly, that is loose 
but not falling, makes the knot or the flower or whatever 
is put in it, just enough in front to show, just enough 


214 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


on the top to look well, and just enough on the back to 
relieve monotony. The dress was a pretty plaid, black 
and white with a little stripe of blue, so the cherry set it 
off, and the stripe set the cherry off ; and after rolling the 
knitting work in a clean napkin, and depositing that with 
a delicately scented handkerchief in a cherry bag with 
cherry drawstrings, which she put on her arm, and with 
a light hood over her head, she set herself off for Lunley 
Lane. 

Miss Thump was rocking in the front room with its 
cheerful lookout on the porch and beyond the porch, the 
yard with its heavy-headed flower-stalks — the blooms 
had been busy some time in attending strictly to resolving 
themselves into what would be seed for the next year’s 
sewing — with its cozy look in and its warm welcome that 
awaited everyone. 

As we said. Miss Thump was rocking. She had been 
sewing, but the slip she was making for some little crea- 
ture who had unwisely slipped into the world without 
bringing its furnishings with it, had fallen from her hand. 
She did not know that she had stopped work ; she did 
not know that she was rocking, for that was an indica- 
tion of laziness on the part of a sewer ; one could knit 
and rock, but not sew and rock. She did not know that 
now and then she nodded her head approvingly, that at 
one time she seemed to be holding out her hands as if 
in blessing. She only knew that she was thinking, and 
thinking of what might be the next thing to be pasted in 
her Bible, to be printed in the Daily Bee. 

The clicking of the gate aroused her, she looked up 
and out, for she sat in front of the window, the color 
overspread her face, and a happy look followed the color, 
as the thought came — “ A good omen.” 

Meg came quickly up the walk, for it was she who 
had clicked the gate as Miss Thump hurried to the 
door, threw it wide open and her arms too: the girl came 
through the one and into the others. 

“ Why, Meg, I was just thinking how lonely you 
would be to-day, and was saying to myself, ‘ Why don’t 
the child come and sit with me .^’ You see Miss Martha 
stopped on her way to Poorly’s and asked if she needed 


SAMUEL'S CHANCE. 


215 


me could I come ? So that is how I knew you were 
alone ; she promised to call on her way back. Come in, 
come in,” and Meg entered gladly the room which 
seemed to her the most charming spot on earth. 

A chair smaller somewhat than the one Susan always 
sat in, was drawn near. Meg sat down, threw back her 
hood, felt for the knot made of “ the narrower,” and find- 
ing it exactly as it had been put, next sought for the one 
at the meeting of the collar, that had sunken a trifle where 
it should have been full, but a gentle reminder of that 
delinquency in the shape of a slight pulling up, set all to 
rights, and soon after, when Miss Thump picked up the 
slip, and began search for the needle she had been sew- 
ing it with, she drew the cherry strings out, opened the 
cherry bag and took out her knitting. A pretty picture 
they made, the elder with her pleasant cheery look — the 
little acid that Susan sometimes found essential to be- 
stow upon others was never visible when Meg was near 
— the younger with a quiet peace and joy about her 
that seemed to say, “ I could sit here rocking and knit- 
ting forever.” 

“ How are all the poor souls we know, Meg?” asked 
Miss Thump in a pitying tone, as soon as she had found 
the needle upon the carpet, so near the side of her foot 
that she thought it a wonder it had not found its way 
through the cloth slipper she wore, and into the soft 
cushion of fat that was daily growing softer and more 
tender, for she began to feel more like the quiet of home, 
and less like the hurry and bustle of the street ; so the 
foot not knowing what else to do with itself — it had 
always been so stirring — was growing full and fat. 

“ They are all doing better,” returned Meg in a more 
encouraging way, “ all but the woman at the other end of 
the court. I am sorry for her. Miss Thump, but I do 
not like her.” 

“ Meg, Meg,” broke in Susan, “ are you going to give 
up the old ‘ Mother Susan ’ you have called me so many 
years ? Going to give it up because you are a young 
lady? If it was Mother Susan when you were a child, 
why can’t it be so always ? Why not, Meg ?” and she 
looked searchingly down upon the face that bent blush- 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


216 

ingly over the stitch she was picking up and passing over 
for the next scallop. 

“ It can, that is, it might be — but — well, I did not 
know but you — you might think me too familiar,” stam- 
mered out Meg, and the stitch slipped, and down, down 
it went, letting go its hold of row upon row, till it had 
made a ruin of itself and the pretty figure it had held in 
place, or had helped with its fellows to hold. 

“Since when might I think so. Miss Meg, Miss 
Hamper.?” began Susan a little bit tartly ; but seeing the 
tears start in the girl’s eyes, she softly added, and tried to 
laugh as she added it, “You hear how it sounds to be 
Missed don’t you, Meg? I thought I would let you see 
how it would make you feel. How would it look if 
Samuel when he grew up had suddenly found it was too 
familiar to say Mother Susan ?” 

“ But he is your son,” asserted Meg. 

“No more than you are my daughter,” Miss Thump 
returned. 

“ I wish I — ” She was going to say, “ I wish I was 
your daughter,” but as it seemed unmaidenly, she turned 
it well into — “ knew whose daughter I was or am. No, I 
think it should be was, for I feel sure no one is alive who 
belongs to me. The river seems to tell me that ; it al- 
ways did.” 

“ Still worrying, child, as to who you are. Now I 
would not think of it. Why Samuel don’t know who he 
is — you know all about my getting Samuel,” and she 
pointed and nodded towards the large Bible. She never 
called it a family Bible till after Samuel Meshach Thump 
was written in it. And why should she ? “ I do not 

think he ever wonders or cares.” 

“ But he is a man and — and his friends won’t ask 
him who he is, who he was, I mean, they look at who he 
is,” came from Meg, who was bending low over the lost 
stitch which seemed in a fair way of being still farther 
lost, for her fingers trembled too much for its successful 
catching. 

“ And now what new notion has the child got in her 
head,” sa.id Susan, just stopping in time to check the 
“humph’* that wanted to come. 


SAMUELS CHANCE. 


217 


“ Nothing new, Moth — Mother Susan, it is not new. 
I always felt it, and a little more now, perhaps, than ever.” 

Meg laid down the knitting ; the lost stitch sped on 
and on, no dou'bt till it reached the end of its journey 
and the beginning of the pattern ; a great sob broke forth, 
and she laid her head on Miss Thump’s lap. The tears 
fell upon the hem of the slip, the purest, sincerest that it 
would ever absorb. 

After the outburst of grief had passed. Miss Thump, 
still stroking the graceful twist and smoothing the side- 
lock, consoled her with, “ Meg I know just what makes 
you gloomy, you who have always been so light of heart, 
free of foot, handy at turns, and singing like a bird from 
morning till night — ” 

“ And from night till morning listening to the wash- 
ing, washing of the river against the piles, against the 
boats, against anything that might be on it,” and she 
shuddered, hid her face in her hands, and her hands deep 
in the skirt of Susan’s bombazine dress. 

“ Not always, child, only by spells — ” 

“ Only by spells. Mother Susan, but the spells get 
worse and worse, the river grows rougher, the tide higher, 
the washing longer now, just as it was the night uncle 
and Gaff drew het' down the stream. Sometimes I think 
it is because I am near eighteen and what ought to come 
to me is struggling to make its way up through the water. 
Am I foolish to hope. Mother Susan ? I never did be- 
fore, but the hopes come so fast that when I don’t hear 
the washing, washing, I am so happy.” 

“Now, keep on hoping, Meg, it will do you good. 
Why I was hoping for something this very afternoon, just 
as you clicked the gate.” As Susan said this, a warm 
glow overspread her face, which had Meg seen, it would 
have puzzled her, that at the age to which Miss Thump 
had arrived there should come stealing into her heart 
hopes that would make her blush to speak of them. 
However, Meg’s head was still down, not hidden, but 
upon its side. “Now,” she continued, “if 1 hope, and 
'don’t think it is foolish, why shouldn’t a young innocent 
thing like you ? But, I didn’t finish what I was saying 
awhile ago. You get gloomy because you don’t see young 


2I8 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


folks enough. Now, I will tell Miss Martha and Mr. 
Hamper, and they shall let you come to me for a bit. 
Samuel shall ask the young folks he knows here for the 
evenings, and we will make you forget the ‘ washing,’ as 
you call it. I think Miss Martha will be here soon, and 
I will tell her what I shall do. She will be glad for your 
sake, but sorry for her own, for she knows you don’t see 
folks enough.” 

“But I do,” said Meg, drying her tears, “I do; I go 
out every day to see folks.” 

“ And what kind of folks do you see, pray ? Folks that 
are full of trouble and sorrow ; folks that cry but never 
laugh ; folks that are always striving and struggling. Why, 
they don’t do a girl like you any good, Meg. It’s well 
enough you should know there are such poor creatures, 
and do for ’em now and then, but not to bide among ’em 
as you do ; that must be stopped. It is Susan Thump’s 
duty to look after you a little now, and Susan Thump 
never neglects her duty. Miss Martha, you see, Meg, never 
had children,” here the little woman drew herself up with 
motherly pride, “ and she don’t know they must be young 
before they are old. The dough must have its freaks at 
rising in bubbles and rising without bubbles before it is 
ready to make a quiet, contented loaf. Now, child, I 
will settle everything after a bit, and so dry your tears 
and tell me of the woman at the other end of the court 
I asked you about, for I think she said she wanted to 
move, but I don’t see how she can ever make but one 
move more, and that her last one. I have got a room, or 
can get one for her.” 

“ I can’t tell you just how she is,” Meg replied, brush- 
ing away all tear-traces, “ and before I say anything that 
I do know about her, let me thank you, dear Mother 
Susan, for wanting me to visit you — but uncle could 
never get along without me and Mother Martha — ” 

“ Sh ! sh ! I will see to it all. All will be right on 
that score. Now, what about her?” 

“ I don’t think she is any weaker, that is, all the 
time,” the young girl said sitting up and looking brighter 
and beginning to take a fresh interest in finding the 
slipped-down stitch. “ She has something on her mind, 


SAMUEL'S CHANCE. 


219 


but I don’t ask her about it, for I do not like her, and yet 
I would not see her suffer. I would not let my worst 
enemy do that. And there is a young man who comes 
to see her who might do something for her, I think. 
Mother Martha found, him there with her once, a long 
time ago, when she sewed a little for some shop, and 
could pay her way ; and we have never seen him since 
till yesterday, when we took her dinner to her. He sat 
beside the bed, and she looked so sunken about the eyes 
that I drew back and looked at the coals to see if they 
burned, but I could still see her. He is a bad man, I 
know. He is dirty and red, and talks queerly and swag- 
gers. I wish she were out of the court.” 

“ Don’t she say who the man is ?” 

“ No, and she never looks at me — at my face, I mean. 
She says she don’t like to see young girls.” 

“ And it is just as well you shouldn’t see her,” re- 
turned Miss Thump as a shadow fell over her face. 
“ There, it is as I said, you must not be among them 
so much. If Miss Martha needs anyone let her send 
for me.” 

“ And me, too, said a strong hearty voice in the 
doorway leading to the passage, “ I will go, if need be, 
to keep Miss Meg away. You are right. Mother Susan, 
right.” 

. “Miss Thump started and cried, “Why, Samuel!” 
Meg started, blushed, dropped another stitch, just, too, 
as she was in a fair way of recovering the one lost before, 
arose, freeing her right hand by gathering into the left the 
balls, the needles, the clean napkin and the cherry bag, 
for Mr. Thump, after announcing himself, advanced at 
once towards her with hand extended, so that it became 
apparent that he meant to give her a cordial greeting. 
Therefore she arose and gave him a warm, dainty little 
hand that shook a little bit, but the grasp it got for the 
giving was so strong and helpful, at the same time min- 
gled with tenderness and respect, that she forgot the awe 
she had of late entertained since she had heard of his 
eloquent pleadings, fine address, and fair promises for 
the future. She forgot that he was a lawyer. She only 
thought of him as Samuel, the companion of the days 


220 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


when she began to see the world through the eyes of 
Miss P. Barley. 

“ Miss Meg,” said he in the same hearty whole-souled 
manner, “ I am glad to find you with Mother Susan. I 
often hear of your comings, but your goings are too 
early for me, and I hardly think that fair. You might 
stay once in awhile for the sake of other days, but now 
I have found you and good Mother Susan chatting so 
cozily, I must be permitted to join, for awhile at least.” 

“ And that, Samuel, we shall be glad to have you 
do,” Miss Thump replied at once, seeing Meg was some- 
what confused despite the lack of awe. “ But tell us how 
this happens ; you don’t look sick, and you don’t look 
troubled.” 

“ And little Mother Susan, will you look troubled if 
I tell you that I am going away laughed Mr. Thump. 

“ Going away ! going away, Samuel !” exclained Miss 
Thump, and the needle that was about to set another 
stitch in the hem, caught by point or by eye, anyway and 
anywhere it could, for it fell from her hand, and the slip 
went, too, so far down the bombazine lap that it was in 
imminent danger of tumbling to the floor. 

“Yes, going away,” Samuel laughed as he saw the 
look on the little lady’s face ; “and it is such an unusual 
thing that you may well be surprised at it.” 

“And where to, Samuel?” she recovered speedily 
enough to ask. 

“To a little village not very far distant.” 

“Business connected with your profession?” she 
asked with an air that said, “My son is a lawyer.” 

“Yes, mother, and if I am successful, we shall see 
even more prosperous days than we do now,” and he shot 
a swift glance toward Meg, as if he thought, “ I can then 
easily take care of another, and I hope I may be allowed 
to.” 

“ Something new, ain’t it ?” Mother Susan liked to 
know as much as it was proper she should concerning his 
clients, and much as he loved to please her in all things, 
he was discreet enough to withhold whatever was confi- 
dential. 

“ Yes, quite new and unexpected. The client called 


SAMUELS CHANCE, 


221 


upon me this very afternoon. As soon as Mr. Trout 
came to the office, I told him of my intention to recreate 
a little, put documents in order, gave instructions to the 
clerk, who proves what we thought he would.” 

“I found him,” interrupted Miss Thump, turning to 
Meg with pardonable pride in her manner. “ I heard a 
poor woman in Blue Bottle Court was dying with trouble 
of the lungs, was good and needy, and I went. She had 
a son who was willing to do, but could get nothing to do. 
He could write well, figure well, and do some other things 
that Samuel wanted a clerk to do ; so he took him, and 
I’m glad to hear that he turned out well. But go on, 
Samuel dear.” 

“ I have little more to say, mother, save that I next 
came here and found you and Meg so engrossed in each 
other that you did not know when I came upon you.” 

“ And that is what I should really like to know,” Meg 
said laughing, and looking up from the pattern which 
she was knitting wrong, and knew she was, but did not 
care so long as enough stitches remained upon the nee- 
dles to keep her fingers employed and her head lowered 
a little. 

“ And that is what I must be pardoned for, if I keep it 
to myself,” returned Mr. Thump in a manner somewhat 
teazing, and at the same time so charming that no one 
could take offence or even be annoyed. “ There is where 
I have you both, I may have been here a long time, and 
I may have been here a short time.” 

“ Now, we don’t care a fig, Samuel, how it was, do we, 
Meg.?” Miss Thump said this to relieve the embarrass- 
ment the young girl felt at the banter. “ You may be 
sure, though, he is not mean enough to listen long. Now 
don’t mind his teazing, I don’t. Tell us,” she turned to 
her son intending to start upon another subject that 
might lead to more of the client or the client’s affairs, 
“ Tell us when you must go.” 

“ The coach leaves the Cross Bow at eleven precisely.” 

“ And your, seat ? It must not be an outside one, 
Samuel.” 

“ My client secured it inside.” 

“ Ah, that will reconcile me. And now I must look to 


222 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


your clothes, and lay them out ready to your hand when 
you want to put them into the portmanteau. Let me see, 
it is now near five o’clock.” And Susan, just before say- 
ing this last, drew from her side pocket in the bombazine 
skirt a watch held to the waist-belt by a jet chain and 
pretty gold and jet pin — all of course the gifts of “ My 
son.” “ And I shall have time before that to run around 
to Poorly’s and see how Miss 'Martha is doing with the 
case she has ; see if she can’t drop around here to supper. 
If not I shall tell her Meg is going to stay — we will see 
her safe home, won’t we Samuel ?” and a little twitching 
at the corners of the mouth showed she thought she was 
doing something very sly. 

“ Certainly, certainly,” came at once from Mr. Thump, 
delighted with Mother Susan’s plans, “ but I can sug- 
gest an amendment — that Miss Meg stay with you while 
I am gone.” 

“Just the thing,” and off bustled the little woman for 
bonnet and shawl, soon reappeared continuing, “just the 
thing.” It may be she had said it all the time she was 
absent; if so, it meant just the thing for the consumma- 
tion of the hopes that she was indulging in when Meg 
clicked the gate. 

The girl, ever thoughtful for the comfort of Mr. Ham- 
per, found chance to remonstrate against the decision, 
and yet heartily thanked her host and hostess for their 
kindness. “ But who would get supper for uncle ?” 

Miss Thump understood well, the warm attachment 
between the two, and knew that Peleg Hamper had little 
to lighten and brighten his old age except the company 
and care of Meg, whose every feeling he seemed so clearly 
to comprehend; and she did not wish to appear selfish or 
take from the welcome he would look for when he stepped 
ashore. But then the hopes, the hopes — it was such a 
good chance for them ! Her ready wit suggested this. 

“Wait, child, till I see Miss Martha ; it may be Mr. 
Hamper’s gone on a long cruise; I’ll see, and be back 
shortly,” and off she hurried before Meg could say yea or 
nay. 

The street door closed softly, the feet pattered cheerily 
down the walk to the gate which clicked mischievously 


SAMUEL'S CHANCE. 


223 


as it heard its owner say to herself, “ Humph ! I can’t 
give Samuel a better chance, and if he don’t see it I’ll 
never help him again, never, never.” 

A little lump she swallowed just then at the thought 
that Samuel might not care for the chance, might not 
feel her hopes, and so see in it no chance at all. She 
walked on to Poorly’s Resort, knocked at the door of a 
small room after climbing two narrow half-broken flights. 
Miss Hamper knew her knock and came to the door, 
which turned on its one hinge as if it had a crick or a 
catch or a something in its back. This was remedied 
when one understood the cause of its infirmity, by hold- 
ing it up a little, and bearing back on the one hinge 
which, should that give way too, would render the door 
of little account as a door. It would make, when the 
season was farther advanced, and the weather colder and 
Boreas more playful, when put against the casement, on a 
slant, a good wind-sifter ; and no doubt it came to that 
soon, for even when Miss Thump tried to swing it the 
sole hinge weakened. Anything, anyway to make the 
feeble more feeble still, the struggle the greater, and yet 
leave life and strength enough for the combat. 

The mother held to her breast which was thin, and 
not until Miss Hamper’s arrival, well covered, a babe, 
her first, and she prayed her last, unless fortune should 
smile again upon her. The love, the tenderness with 
which she looked at it, with which she touched it, were 
just as deep as if she had lain upon a bed of down, under 
a silken cover. 

“ I never thought,” she murmured as the tears came 
despite Miss Hamper’s injunction not to get excited, “it 
would be like this. Charley never thought it, or we 
never would have left the country for this great city. 
He thought he could get work and do better for me and 
for this little thing,” and she smoothed the wrinkled brow, 
not wrinkled by life’s burdens yet, but by the strife it 
had made to put itself where it might meet them, straight- 
ened out the tiny fingers, drew it closer, and her lips 
moved, in wish, desire, prayer — prayer that was answered. 
And in after years the boy, for the new comer was a son, 
never knew that he first saw the light of day amid the 


224 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


wretchedness of Poorly’s ; he never begged, nor stole his 
bread, but bought it with the earnings of toil of no mean 
description, of responsibility and trust of no light weight. 

Miss Thump had a whispered consultation with Miss 
Hamper, and then drew near. The mother looked up, 
smiled, and put out her slender hand, saying, “ I have 
heard of you.” 

The pressure was returned with warmth, and a trem- 
bling voice said, “ A boy ?” 

” Yes — Charley,” replied the young mother, with 
a proud light in her eye, though the slip was coarse- 
threaded, the flannel scarce worthy of the name, so little 
wool was there in it. 

“ Do not worry,” was all Miss Thump could say, for 
she thought, “if Samuel had ever lain like that.” 

“ No, no,” came in the voice of Martha, “ she shall 
not suffer. ^She has fallen into good hands, I tell her.” 

“ Thank God !” the mother whispered. “ I some- 
times thought there was none to thank. And Charley, 
his father, will somebody give him work ? that is all he 
asks for. He is good, but unfortunate. He will be glad 
and sorry ; glad if he can do for it, but sorry, oh, so 
sorry, if he cannot.” 

“ Just keep still now, there’s a dear,” said Nurse 
Hamper, smoothing the pillow which she had borrowed 
of a friend whom she knew living not far off, for im- 
mediate use, intending to replace it with one of her own 
before night, for she had every reason to believe that it 
was the only one the lender had. “ Sleep a bit, if you 
can, before he comes home. He shall have work ; so bid 
him be cheery over the coming of his boy.” 

The young mother took a few spoonfuls of tea — Mar- 
tha always had a package in the bag that was packed 
night and day — then slept from exhaustion. Meanwhile 
Susan Thump had been looking carefully about the room ; 
there was scarcely anything in it to look at, but what 
there was, was clean, scrupulously clean. 

When Martha was at liberty to confer with her, she 
was peering into the fire, and into the bucket that held 
what makes a fire. She found little of either, and so plac- 
ing the forefinger of her right hand upon the little finger 


SAMUELS CHANCE. 22$ 

of her left, said, as if she had begun a tally of the needs 
and necessities, “ Coals.” 

“Yes,” replied Martha, “and better ones, too ; these 
put the fire more out than in.” 

Next, Miss Thump, with the forefinger of the right 
on the one next to the little finger of the left, nodded 
towards the bed, and said, “Covers.” 

“And a little one for the boy,” added Martha. 

“ Certainly, a warm one, too. I have one I made for 
Samuel.” Then, with a look into the bowl of tea, and 
the bowl of nothing, and the broken cup that was too 
leaky to hold anything if it had been lucky enough to get 
the olfer, tallied now upon the middle finger of the left, 
and suggested “ Gruel.” 

“ Thickened with oatmeal,” replied Martha, again in 
acquiescence. “ Soup is too hearty yet.” 

“ What for the baby— the boy Milk.^” and the fore- 
finger otthe right was midway between the last stopping- 
place and the fore of the left, but seeing Martha shake 
her head, it halted. 

“ No, it’s a sight o’ comfort to the poor soul to nurse 
him. Gruel, tea, fire, comfort, and work for the father 
will soon bring better milk than pounds can buy ; and 
when she is stronger, some soup once or twice a week 
will help along wonderful fast.” 

Susan knew well this last — soup — did not belong to 
her tally, so she looked again, and seeing a bare window, 
counted off on the fore of the left, which seemed anx- 
iously waiting to hear what its message would be, “Cur- 
tain, weak eyes.” 

This did not mean that the patient already had, 
among all her other trials, weak eyes to contend with, or 
that, like the curtain they were needed, but that she 
would get them if the window be allowed to, remain un- 
shaded. To this Martha again assented, but also sug- 
gested that it be not anything for permanency, for they 
would move as soon as the poor thing was able, for 
Poorly’s was no place for her. They both recognized 
about the young mother a refinement, a delicacy, a 
breeding that could never hold up head in such a Resort. 

So Miss d'hump continued to tally till the left hand 


226 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


had exchanged places, till the left fore began to mark off 
on the fingers of the right. Some things were needs, 
some were comforts, and some, to the father, mother, and 
the boy, were luxuries. 

“ Now, Miss Martha, just step around to the Lane 
and tell Meg — she came to see me this afternoon, and I 
made her stay till I could come here — just tell Meg to 
hurry the maid with the supper, and you eat. Miss Mar- 
tha, while I stay here with them. Samuel is going away 
at eleven by the Cross Bow coach — professional business 
calls him.” Here, with laudable pride, Miss Thump 
touched the brooch that laid upon her neckerchief — it 
held Samuel’s likeness. “So, you see, I can’t stay till after 
midnight. He is home now, and I must help him pack 
his portmanteau after a bit. Now, bring back with you 
a good supper for the father, and anything you think she 
might eat, not forgetting a lunch for yourself to-night.” 

“ I am so glad Meg is at your house ; I did not see 
my way clear for the night, for brother Peleg and Gaff 
have gone so far up stream the chances be they won’t 
get back till break o’ day,” and good Martha began draw- 
ing her shawl about her preparatory to setting out. 

“ 'Phere, I’m glad of that, for Meg thought she must 
go home and get her uncle’s supper. And, Miss Martha, 
don’t you think it would be better for her gloomy spells, 
to get away from the water a little } I thought, if Mr. 
Hamper and you, too, would consent. I’d like to have 
her stay with me while Samuel is away.” 

“ And it would do her good — do her good, the poor 
child. I will go in time in the morning to open the 
house and stir tne fire for brother, and will tell him. It 
will be hard for him to say yes, but if he thinks it will do 
her good, he will. Now I will run on, for I know you 
want to get back to help Samuel off. Did you say he 
was at home ?” 

“ Yes, yes, and tell Meg she might pour the tea, if she 
has a mind ; you will be too tired to be bothered with it. 
Miss Martha.” There was a little light in Susan’s eyes as 
she said this, and there was also in Martha’s. Could it be 
that sJie had hopes, too .? It may be ; she and Siisan had 
thought alike ever since they first met. 


CRAFT DEFEATED, 


227 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A PEARL BUCKLE HEARTED ROSETTE DEFEATS CRAFT 
AND CUNNING. 

Mr. Marplot had spent much of his energy in seek- 
ing for estates unclaimed ; more of it in spending the 
large fees he demanded upon the establishment of clear 
titles, and the remainder of it in mopping his brow and 
hands, although in his younger years there was not so 
much of the mopping needed, and consequently more to 
be devoted on the spending, after the seeking had been 
successful. Yet of late years he had grown miserly and 
hoarded some wealth. 

Whenever it made no difference in receipts, if there 
was no other way than an honest way before him, he 
chose that, but it was far more in accordance with his 
nature to sneak and sidle into the claimant’s pocket, get 
as much more as was due him as he could, and emerge, 
never the way he went in, but through some threadbare 
corner, with mop and glands in full operation. The 
glands seemed to stand for conscience with him, they 
always worked more when he wronged others or when he 
came near his victims. As he grew older, they grew 
stronger, for they had more to bear. Conscience is 
always keener as a wicked life weakens physically and 
grows spiritually. 

For years past he had spent time, money, and energy 
in looking for heirs to the musty time-rent hangings, 
worm-eaten linen, tarnished plate, that awaited, upon the 
walls and board of Ivandale, a claimant. 

To him it was the last struggle for plenty to look for 
in old age, for he knew a trap whose successful springing 
would bring him more than a paltry return for service 
rendered ; it would bring him an ample -fortune. When 


228 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


he thought how long before he had prepared so sneak- 
ingly this tmp which had not rusted, but grown brighter 
as the time of its springing grew nearer year by year ; 
how he had crushed out a life that should have been 
brightened and made happy by love of husband and 
love of child, the mop was powerless to compete, and 
conscience sent the oil in streams, not drops. He had 
travelled in many countries, with means and without, and 
when the latter was the state, he journeyed by foot or 
by asking aid. He had a dogged determination, and if 
he had been as bent upon doing good as he was upon 
doing evil, many a life would have been bettered. Chil- 
dren and children’s children had followed the mistress 
of Ivandale from time to time as they were ready, or 
rather as they were forced, whether ready or not. Of 
these departures he had obtained legal proof ; but the 
descendants of one child, the younger son, who had tac- 
itly encouraged his mother to obey her last summons, 
were not all dead, and to them Ivandale belonged. Of 
these last he knew and much that he knew kept to him- 
self. With his lawyer, the honest, well-reputed Trout, 
he deposited the legal proofs, and he, acting upon them, 
and some proofs that were not strictly legal, sent means 
to Margaret Ray to come to England and establish her 
claim as sole heir to the yellow, tender, and musty, and 
what they treated of. Of the old lord’s death they had 
not proof, yet such was more to be believed than doubt- 
ed, for he could be counted more than four score and 
fifteen if living, which far exceeded man’s allotted years, 
and his life had long been one of exposure and proba- 
ble deprivation. The estate was in danger of seizure 
by the crown, but the lawyer felt himself fortified in 
this very lack of proof— fortified, till craft had under 
the showing of cunning, given him the one link need- 
ful to make his fair client mistress of Ivandale ; but 
first Mistress 

“ Ha ! ha ! that’s good. I will call again,” said that 
worthy blandly to himself, as he laid the yellow, tender, 
and musty away, folded his notes and copy within his 
pocket, gave the officer of the municipality notice that 
his business was concluded. The papers were.counted. 


CRAFT DEFEATED. 229 

the officer nodded, Mr, Trout nodded, and the great iron 
doors swung upon the vaults subterranean. 

Mrs. Mutter’s bell rang. Zeke was not at home, 
much to the delight of the owner of the bell. If it had 
been an applicant without, she would have realized the 
lack of dignity in attending the summons in person, but 
as it proved to be Mr. Trout of Lunley Lane, an appli- 
cant indeed, though that lady knew it not then, shrewd 
as she was, for he called to apply, neither for her nor her 
one vacancy, and but ojie^ but for the vacancy in Miss 
Ray’s heart. 

Mr. Trout being in love with the lodger on the sec- 
ond-floor back, and likewise in love with her prospects, 
he was thrown quite as much off his guard upon being 
opened upon by the lynx-eyed landlady of No. 40 Chapel 
Street, as she was upon doing the opening. Both being 
thus off, it caused an awkward pause broken by Mrs. 
Mutter, who thought it better not to recognize her visi- 
tor in any other than a professional manner. 

“I ’ope you don’t think 1 answer the bell often, sir, 
but, you see, Zeke took a turn or two around the square, 
and hain’t come back yet. It never does, I find, to give 
’em an inch, they’ll take an ell ; but a body that’s been 
brought up as I’ave, sir, can’t do — ” 

Here Mr. Trout, who began to find his guard like- 
wise, made a bow and touched his hat with much gal- 
lantry, and Mrs. Mutter’s heart began to flutter so that 
she found herself suddenly speechless. 

“ I beg pardon, ma’m,” said he, slipping in as she 
paused, “ but legal business calls me here to see an in- 
mate of your house. Miss Ray. Is she in ?” 

“Oh, you are Mr. Trout? Walk in, and I will send 
up,” she said opening wider the door, on whose thresh- 
old was placed again the shining boots, surmounted by 
glossy broadcloth. 

Mrs. Mutter was determined not to lose her footing 
in the parlor, to which she showed him, so she rang for 
the only maidservant she kept, a frowzy-haired and 
frowzy-brained creature, who made more use of her hair 
in preparing food than of her brain, for it was not an 
uncommon thing to see a boarder suddenly cease chew- 


230 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


ing and dive into his mouth with thumb and finger well 
pinched, draw them slowly away, and describe in air the 
arc of an imaginary circle, with his mouth for the centre 
and the hair as the radius. There was no mistaking its 
origin, for if the curl had been baked, boiled, or stewed 
out of it. the color remained, nothing could dissolve that ; 
it was one of those neutral tints, made by mixing the 
dandelion with the brick. Had it framed a fair delicate 
face, soft blue eyes, long lashes, and finely cut features, 
it would have been called, no doubt, “ Titian but as 
it did not encircle, but tumbled unscrupulously over a 
thick freckled skin, small hard eyes, no lashes percep- 
tible, and stubby features, it was — red. She was kind, 
accommodating and self-sacrificing ; the last was a fault 
rather than a virtue, the lodgers thought, when they 
learned that careful probing of the pie, pudding, and 
meat-gravy was indispensable to the finding of these 
sacrifices. She was quite as fond of “ the pretty lady” 
as Zeke, and glad of any chance to wait upon her. 

She appeared in answer to Mrs. Mutter’s ring, wiping 
her hands upon her apron, and seeing a gentleman so 
sleek and shiny, so bald and bland, made a short quick 
curtsy ; and not seeing her mistress who was arranging 
the curtains with a little pull here and a twitch there, 
with her head on one side — the left — as she pulled and 
on the other — the right — as she twitched, said : 

“ Is it ye, sir, that bid me wid the bell 1 It’s afther 
bein’ Zeke’s afthernoon out, and it’s me that said I’d bide 
the applerkints till he come back.” 

At the sound of her voice, Mrs. Mutter turned sharply, 
and waving her hand with an air which she thought would 
strongly impress Mr. Trout with the belief that it was 
second nature to command, said, “ Mary Ann, the gen- 
tleman’s card to the second-floor back, at once.” 

Never before was Mrs. Mutter known to say a thing 
so much to the point, and stop after she had said it ; so 
it was but natural that Mary Ann should linger expecting 
an appendix, a postscript, an addition, and it might be an 
apostrophe or a eulogy upon the late Mr. Mutter, for 
when she started, one never knew where she would bring 
up. 


CRAFT DEFEATED, 


231 


“ I’m afther bearin’ the rimnints,” said the maid- 
servant, who had been many times reprimanded for leav- 
ing before her mistress had done, even when the pota- 
toes were boiling dry and the leg of mutton sending forth 
warning that it was actually sticking to the pot. But the 
landlady was again lost in the sidewise motion of her 
head, and the pulling and twitching of the curtains. 

“ I’m waitin’ mum,” she added after a slight pause, to 
remind her mistress that much must have been forgotten, 
and at the same time it gave her a chance to look well 
over and around Mr. Trout. 

“ Must I repeat the order and another wave of 
the hand so overawed Mary Ann for the moment, that 
she wrung her hands again on the same corner of her 
apron, which operation had been gone through no less 
than six times while she stood in the doorway. She ad- 
vanced to Mr. Trout, and dropping, or rather losing, one 
of the neutral tint upon the black broadcloth, where it 
showed to even more advantage than in the meat-gravy, 
she threw the apron corner over her hand and clutched 
at the card, making a curtsy at the same time. 

How many offices that corner performed in one day — 
nay, even in one hour ! It rubbed dingy spots from the 
glasses as they were put upon the table ; it shielded her 
hand from too close contact with the bail of the pot of 
boiling soup ; it opened the oven door, and it held se- 
curely the loaf of bread. If there rested some doubt in 
her mind as to it being fairly done, such could be put to 
flight very speedily by turning it bottom upwards upon 
the corner and applying her ear to the undercrust ; if 
not “ done,” the corner of the apron whisked it back into 
the pan, and closed the door ; if “ done,” the corner with 
the whole apron had been known to have been moistened 
and laid over to soften a “hard bake.” It cleaned here 
and wiped there ; and as we are stating truthful facts in 
this our history, or so near truthful as rumor brings them 
to us, we are obliged to record that it has been so near 
Mary Ann’s nose as to justify the s.ispicion that she was 
wiping with it that stumpy organ — but just now it was to 
carry the card, bearing the name of the honest and well- 
reputed lawyer to the door of Miss Margaret Ray, second- 


232 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


floor back, and here we will follow Mary Ann, the corner, 
and the card. 

We had neglected to say that Mary Ann was by no 
means a youthful handmaiden. The anniversaries of her 
birth numbered more than forty, and we should think it 
even nearer the mark to say forty-five. So the weight of 
these years, with the corpulent state to which they had 
brought her, rendered the exertion of going up stairs so 
great that, as she grew short in breath, she grew to puff 
and pant in the chest and to perspire so profusely in the 
face and neck, that one drop thereof fell upon the card, 
and when Miss Ray answered her not very gentle rap, 
she found use again for the opposite apron corner in 
wiping this away. 

Mary Ann curtsied, and holding out the card after 
the drop had been well rubbed in and over, so that the 
most that could be made of it had been done, said, 

‘‘A gintlemin, Miss, as says that’s the name of him.” 

Miss Ray relieved the apron of its burden, but did not 
seem to relieve Mary Ann, who looked back, then side- 
wise, then peered through the hall in the direction of 
Mrs. Crowfoot’s room. After this apparently satisfactory 
survey for any ambush which might conceal an enemy, 
she raised her finge'r ominously and whispered hoarsely, 
“ Whist ye now, the mistress be pullin’ and pinchin’ the 
parlor winder kivers. It manes what she can’t be afther 
keepin’ a eye on, she’ll be puttin’ a ’ air on at the crack 
that lays ferninst the door ladin’ into the next room, 
mum. It’s the sign, and niver fails. What she dhrops, 
Miss Crowfoot ’ll be shure to pick up. So, dear, jist 
remimber what Mary Ann tells ye.” 

Miss Ray, surprised at the woman’s forethought, for 
she always thought her stupid at the same time that she 
was kind, involuntarily put her hand in her pocket to 
reward her. 

Mary Ann detected the movement and its motive, 
and added quickly, “ It’s fer the sake o’ me heart and 
not o’ me pocket, I done it. Miss,” then turned away and 
had reached the other end of the landing by the time the 
hand was withdrawn. The owner then resolved to repay 
her in a less ostentatious way. 


CRAFT DEFEATED. 


233 


‘Say, Mary Ann, that I will be down directly.” 

“Yis, Miss.” 

This request and reply reached the ears of the at- 
torney who had awaited an audience with judges of low 
and judges of high degree, chiefs of justice and chiefs 
of what was not justice — at one time even with the Lord 
Chancellor himself; but never had he awaited with so 
much palpitation of heart, and so much weakness of the 
knees, which all the stroking upon their covering of 
glossy broadcloth that he could give them with a pair of 
nervous hands, did not strengthen ; and worst of all Mrs. 
Mutter had time to note these symptoms between the 
pulling and twitching which grew more vigorous as the 
moment of Miss Ray’s entrance drew nearer. For the 
first time, craft and cunning deserted Mr. Trout, for 
though he called them, they showed him no way of get- 
ting her out of the room. It is just possible that the 
reason they were silent was because they recognized 
those very qualities stronger in Mrs. Mutter, and knew 
the odds were against them if they struck the offensive. 

She was cunning enough to hold her tongue, lest 
Miss'” Ray might know she was there and delay coming 
till she should be called away by some of the pressing 
duties of the establishment ; and she was crafty enough 
to be pulling and twitching at the shade of green next to 
the window, and being thus concealed by the lace cur- 
tain, or what passed as such (it was as genuine as any- 
thing else that is found in a second-rate boarding and 
lodging house) she noted the young lady’s entrance. 

When Mary Ann stepped off the landing, the latter 
stepped to the glass that hung on the wall of her room. 
It was a glass that was not perfect, and seemed to be 
conscious of its failings, for it never looked bright and 
polished, never mind how much it was rubbed upon and 
reasoned with. It had seemed more unhappy than ever 
since the pretty face had come to its home to look in it 
daily and hourly almost, for it knew it made her nose 
look one degree to the right, and her mouth as far to the 
left, while the eyes looked as if a stitch had been taken 
in the outer corner of one and the inner corner of the 
other ; whereas, the truth was, the nose was as perfect in 


234 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


shape and position, and the mouth as cherry-like, and in 
as true line with the nose, and the eyes as sparkling and 
wide open, as nose, mouth, and eyes could be. Just at 
the looking into it of which we are writing, the glass 
seemed more dissatisfied with itself than ever, for despite 
its efforts to please, Miss Ray’s face was reflected very 
much as it would have been from a tin pan. 

“ Ha, you cannot cheat me, though,” said that lady, not 
at all angry with the abortive attempts of the glass, which 
Mrs. Mutter, by the way, always spoke of as a “ mirror.” 
“ Lady of Ivandale or not, my face is fair enough to 
bait Trout with. It’s not a disagreeable idea — so much 
better than I have ever known.” While saying this, a 
fresh ribbon supplanted that worn at the throat, a knot 
of cherry to match in the hair, which was gathered into 
a graceful twist and held by a barb of silver ; here and 
there a curl was made to stray from the twist in the most 
natural and bewitching manner. 

Remembering the crack in the door, but not know- 
ing of the space between the lace curtain and the green 
shade — and if she had it is doubtful if it would have dis- 
concerted her, she descended the stairs and entered the 
room just as Mr. Trout was rubbing his knees for the hun- 
dredth time, but imparting no strength. He said to him- 
self, under his breath, “ Confound that Mutter, what is she 
doing behind there ? If she ever has to call upon the law. 
I’ll be the opposing counsel ; I’ll pay her. I’ll pay her,” and 
he gave his knees a blow this time that seemed either to 
knock strength into them, or weakness out of them, no 
matter which, it was sufficient any way to bring him on 
his feet when the lady entered ; but though he tried, it 
did no more, so he was obliged to stand stock still. She 
advanced with sweetness and composure of manner, and 
extending her hand, which Mr. Trout, distrusting still 
the power of his knees, plunged forward, and grasped, 
squeezed, and as it was not withdrawn, squeezed again, 
and yet again, and was just going to sigh, when he sud- 
denly recollected what was behind the lace curtain, and 
cut it short just in time to escape the ear of one whom 
he was forced to acknowledge his superior in craft and 
cunning. 


235 


CRAFT DEFEATED, 

‘‘ Beg pardon, Miss, but you see the shade wouldn’t 
work, and I thought it might fall, and the sun would come 
in, and if you ’ad. papers to look at, you couldn’t read 
’em ; the sun is on this side at this ’alf of the day, you 
know. I told Zeke ’e must do this before ’e took the 
turn or two around the square, but that’s always the way. 
I never was so bothered with anything in my life as with 
Zeke.” 

All this was said by the landlady as she was extract- 
ing herself from the lace curtain. 

Miss Ray heard the well-known voice, but did not 
see at first its owner, so she stood nonplussed between 
the squeezing and the effect its effort had upon Mr. 
Trout — for his knees having suddenly played traitor he 
had so trespassed upon good breeding as to sit before 
she had — and the final twitch given to the green shade as 
Mrs. Mutter came forth. 

Mr. Trout was not to be trifled with any longer, and 
Miss Ray must not be offended, for the second-floor back 
brought a good price, always in advance. Where the 
funds came from she felt quite sure, and why they came, 
was what she had determined to find out. Zeke would in 
all probability not be home for some time — he was never 
known to return with alacrity, when it was his time out — 
the adjoining room was not occupied ; Mrs. Crowfoot of 
the second-floor front must be sought at once, and so 
she hurried out disarming any suspicions that might arise 
concerning her intentions by going up stairs with much 
bustle, taking cat-like strides from the landing to Mrs. 
Crowfoot’s room; and beckoning and nodding to that 
lady in a most mysterious manner, at last succeed n! in 
making her understand that she was to follow. 

Softly, stealthily the two crept from stair to stair, alonrg 
the passage, through the door which, fortunately, had been 
left open, and found themselves nodding to each other 
with satisfaction at the feat, as they selected the best places 
in the very crack of which Mary Ann had warned Miss Ray. 
It was not the most desirable crack for this purpose, for 
it would reveal nothing to the eye — it was too close for 
that — yet they were both capable of supplying from very 
fertile imaginations what it was pleased to withhold. 


236 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


While the landlady, and the lady who lodged at the 
front of the first landing were thus employed, Mr. Trout 
had stiffened again in the knees, and having arisen took 
the little hand, squeezed it again, and this time made the 
squeeze more telling, by rolling his eyes upward, so as to 
well display the white portions thereof — which by the 
way, Miss Ray thought looked a trifle bilious — sighing 
very deeply and shaking his head, as if he meant this all 
to mean, “ My feelings are beyond expression in words.” 

“ Pray be seated, Mr. Trout,” said she, who was not at 
all disconcerted by the squeezing, rolling, sighing, and 
shaking, and yet upon whom they were not lost. 

“ Thank you. Miss,” replied the well reputed lawyer, 
not a little surprised at the calmness of the lady, after 
such a display of his inmost soul, “ thank you, I will — 
that is, I will for a few moments,” and he endeavored to 
appear innocent and indifferent by alternately toying 
with the fob and the seal in which it ended, and rubbing 
an imaginary bit of dust from the glossy broadcloth in 
the region of the knee, which he crossed over its fellow. 

Miss Ray sat down likewise, but not upon what Mrs. 
Mutter was pleased to term a “ tait-tait,” one end of which 
her visitor occupied. The bait was worth withdrawing 
now and then ; the Trout would bite the more greedily, 
when he took a final lunge. 

“ I hope you are not in haste.” said the cherrylike 
mouth, which the “ mirror” would always have was one 
degree east of the nose ; “ I should much like to know 
more of the claims I am here to present, and to tell the 
truth exactly upon what they are based. If the end is 
uncertain,' you know, I shall be — ” and the curls that had 
been taught to escape at just the right time here began 
to free themselves from the silver barb, the hands folded 
themselves nervously, and the pretty, well poised head 
hung just enough to be bewitching without being awk- 
ward, “ I shall be — be deeply indebted to you. I have 
no means at my command and — ” 

“They are not at all necessary, I assure you. Miss 
Ray. I am only too happy to serve you.” 

Here, we suspect Mr. Trout would have added some- 
thing quite tender, which would have clinched the sigh- 


CRAFT DEFEATED, 


237 


ing and squeezing, rolling and shaking; but when he 
dropped into the corner of the “ tait-tait,” craft said to 
him, “You are a soft-headed old fool. Play a better 
game, or I’ll leave. You showed the white feather to the 
lodging mistress. Look well, now, how you bite. Be 
sure of the bait before you swallow.” 

Acting upon the whisperings of craft, he assumed the 
lawyerlike air, sat up, cleared his throat, and so far forgot 
where he was, in listening to the warnings of craft, as to 
adjust upon his nose a pair of spectacles, and draw from 
his pocket a paper. 

The drawing of the paper was intended, but the ad- 
justing of the spectacles was not ; so as Miss Ray turned 
ip the direction of the crack — she thought she detected a 
suppressed cough — he slipped them off in a twinkling 
and back whence they came. 

Uncrossing his knees, he leaned forward, holding the 
paper still folded between thumb and forefinger of one 
hand, whose palm he spread upon his lap, which was very 
short — did anyone ever see a fob-chain unless the lap 
was short.? — and looking fixedly away from Miss Ray 
said, “ State, if' you please, your early recollections.” 

“ Of what ?” 

“ Anything.” 

“ That is too indefinite.” 

“ Let me aid your memory.” While saying the last few 
sentences he had purposely kept his eyes away, but in an 
unguarded moment he took a sly glance, and at once the 
crossing and recrossing of the knees began, the fob grew 
uneasy, the seal was raised threateningly, and the imagi- 
nary bit of dust sought for. The lawyer and the lover 
were so hopelessly mixed, that it is not to be wondered 
that craft made little headway, and that cunning stood 
by with idle fingers. 

“ My memory awaits your aid,” said the cherrylike 
mouth, after a pause. 

“You had a father,” began the lawyer, dropping the 
chase after the imaginary bit of dust, and yet hesitating. 
But it was difficult to determine whether he was in doubt 
about the continuing of the chase, or the finishing of 
the sentence, for, that it needed finishing might be in- 


238 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


ferred from the fact that he had made it neither a ques- 
tion nor a statement with a period ; there was evidently 
a contingency to be attached to it. But as the contin- 
gency was slow in coming, the young lady thought to 
coax it into an appearance, by modestly saying, “ I pre- 
sume so.” (Here Mrs. Crowfoot, on the other side of 
the crack, motioned with her lips to Mrs. Mutter, “ I told 
you that it wasn’t all right.”) Mrs. Mutter was too 
intent upon catching every word to reply. 

“ It is not presumable, Miss Ray, it is a fact.” Now 
his eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, and he could 
listen again to craft. “Yes, it is a fact, but must be sub- 
stantiated, and just this substantiation is the missing 
link.” 

“ And in what, pray, must the substantiation consist 
■ Without replying directly, the lawyer astonished her 
again by saying, with assurance, You had a mother.” 

“That, I well remember,” said the fair client. 

“Ah, exactly. You see I am aiding your memory,” 
still the small twinkling eyes were fixed upon the wall. 

“State, concisely, what you remember of her.” 

The heads were bent so low, and pressed so closely, 
that the crack was taxed to its utmost, and being thus 
taxed, there was nothing left for it to do but to find re- 
lief in expansion. 

^ Noting this expansion. Miss Ray’s first impulse was 
to plead the heaviness of the atmosphere as a cause for 
opening suddenly the door leading into the next room, 
and thus affording instant relief to the overburdened 
crack ; but she was too discreet, upon second thought, to 
make open antagonists of the landlady and the lodger of 
the second-floor front, and trusted to Mary Ann for a 
successful routing of the enemy, whose lurking she felt 
sure of from the suppressed cough, the expanding of the 
crack, and the nature of the two women. So she patted 
her little foot upon the two-ply ingrain" which was in 
some places but one ply, and in others, no ply at all. But 
she happened to be lucky enough to strike upon two-ply, 
as we said, and so the sound was softer and gentler, and 
fell more harmoniously upon Mr. Trout’s ears, and from 
his ears more sentimentally upon his heart. 


CRAFT DEFEATED, 


239 


‘‘ Let me think a moment,” she said, still patting, ap- 
parently in deep thought, but really in vexed impatience 
that Mary Ann was not on the lookout. 

But it was all right, for the rosetted slipper that en- 
cased the little foot only made the bait more attractive, 
and the Trout more erratic in swimming from its 
very allurements. The lawyer, evidently tired of staring 
at the opposite wall, upon which hung, just above his 
place of gazing, a portrait of the late Mr. Mutter in his 
younger days, no doubt soon after he had led Miss Sarah 
Sparks to the altar, and Mrs. Mutter from it, for he had a 
timid look ; yes, a frightened look, as if a mine might 
be sprung upon him at any moment, and he was not 
sharp enough to apprehend time or place. He had on a 
coat of a very blue color ; very tight sleeves, whose cuffs 
dropped over the hands ; a very high, broad collar, and 
very bright yellow buttons ; his neck was encompassed 
by a stock of green, from whose interior arose, like an 
inner wall, a dickey that touched his chin in front, his 
ears at the sides, and his mud-hued hair at the back. 
He was resting upon a scarlet covered chair, while a 
crimson curtain formed the background. He was 
netted in summer, carefully dusted in winter, and at 
all seasons pointed to with great pride by his surviving 
consort. 

Not being of artistic proclivities, Mr. Trout preferred 
the wall as his objective point of vision ; but as the foot 
continued patting, his eyes took a downward tendency* 
till they found the place where the moths had ruthlessly 
eaten both ply, and the harsh heel of the transient and 
of the permanent had ground 'off but one ply, and at last 
where the rosetted slipper patted upon two ply. 

She was outwardly lost in thought of early childhood ; 
she was inwardly scolding Mary Ann, and fancying the 
effect of the rosette with the tiny pearl buckle set deep 
in its heart. 

The kind Irish heart of Mary Ann was beating with 
indignation ; the none too vigorous brain was not idle, 
and the sacrifices were strewn thickly. She hurried 
through the tasks that must be done at once, and seizing 
broom and brush, pan and pail, bustled into the dark- 


240 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


ened room back of the parlor, threw open the blinds, 
and keeping the crack and its expanders well in the 
rear, began such a vigorous brushing of wall and 
ceiling, as had not been witnessed in No. 40 Chapel 
Street since it had lost caste as a genteel private abode, 
and taken the downward to a third-rate boarding and 
lodging. 

Mrs. Mutter could not remonstrate, for her voice 
would betray her; she could not motion with her index 
finger, for Mary Ann never looked her way, and seemed 
utterly oblivious to the existence of anybody in the 
world ; so what could she do but steal out, followed by 
Mrs. Crowfoot ? 

Reaching the room of the latter, they spent some time 
in congratulating themselves that they did not need to 
cross the sea to be told by a bald-pated lawyer that they 
had had fathers, or to study so long over the recollec- 
tions of their mothers. 

The landlady was about to tell the second-floor front 
confidentially, of course — all landladies are strictly con- 
fidential — that she knew Mr. Trout was just going to 
hug the second-floor back, when she prevented so dis- 
graceful a proceeding by blushingly stepping forward. 
She was about to do this when Mrs. Crowfoot, shaking 
her head, knowingly insinuated that Mrs. Mutter might 
have known better when she “ took in the brazen face,” 
which insinuation so incensed Mrs. Mutter, that the door 
met the casement, an instant after, with a heavy bang, 
and for days thereafter a gulf, that threatened defiance 
to bridging, yawned between the mistress of the house 
and the second-floor front. 

With the noisy arrival of brush and broom. Miss Ray’s 
impatience vanished, and she was thinking to herself, 
“I’ll pension Mary Ann when I’m mistress of Ivandale ; 
and missing Ivandale, I see my way quite clear to a less 
pretentious, but maybe quite as easy a position — but I 
must recollect.” 

“ She was pretty, very pretty,” she said aloud, in reply 
to the lawyer’s last request, and at this he nodded assent. 
■“ Her mouth was small, but well shaped, her nose was 
well cut.” 


CRAFT DEFEATED. 241 

“ Exactly,” replied he, migrating between the two-ply 
and the rosette. 

“ Her throat was round and full ; her skin was fair 
and white ; her hair was brown ; her hands were small, 
delicate, and well jewelled.” 

“ I trust they will be again,” replied the absent-minded 
lawyer. “ Yes, I assure you, I shall do all I can to make 
them so.” 

“ I do not understand you,” replied the lady in a sur- 
prised tone, “ I was giving my recollections of the per- 
sonal appearance of my mother.” 

“Yes, yes; certainly, of course — you said her eyes 
had — ” he was about to say, “ pretty pearl buckles in 
their centres,” but craft stopped him just in time. 

“ Her eyes,” said his client unconscious of the confu- 
sion in his mind, “ were — were wicked eyes.” 

This assertion made him look professionally at the 
evidence, and he added, hastily letting go of the rosette 
and attaching again just below the portrait, “ Evidence 
which must be suppressed.” 

“ And I would like to suppress them from my heart 
and memory,” she answered, with much feeling. 

“ Do you recollect her tragic death ? Certainly, you 
do.” 

“ I am not sure that she is dead,” said Miss Ray, 
calmly. 

“ Certainly, certainly she is dead, and you well re- 
member” — as the ground he was treading grew shaky the 
lawyer overcame the lover — “ let me see, about fifteen 
years ago.” 

“ Fifteen ! fifteen ! why, then, I should have been” 
— and she counted her fingers, tapering at the nails and 
dimpling at the hands — “ seven years old. No, oh no, I 
was far away from them, and years before.” 

“ You’re not twenty-two ? No — make it eighteen, that 
is, eighteen next birthday,” and he begun to fumble in 
pocket, nervously, for the contents of the yellow, tender, 
and musty. He feared lest he had missed something 
she might have said concerning her mother, while he 
was lost in the labyrinths of the pearl buckle hearted 
rosette; he had fancied she was describing herself, so his 


242 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


replies were affirmations, not questions. He had swam 
beyond his depth, and confused in brain, confused in 
intriguing, confused in every way in which a pretty face, 
pretty slipper, and pretty sly owner to these can con- 
fuse a bachelor, he drew forth his watch, and pleading 
engagements of importance, arose, saying, 

“ I will call again, Miss Ray, and see, in the meantime, 
if you cannot refresh your memory, and make it eighteen. 
I will then tell you of your father. It will be better for 
me to tell you of the past, I find. So you need only 
recollect sufficient to make it eighteen.” 

“ How shall I do that ?” 

“ I shall trust to^ your sagacity,” and he took her 
hand, squeezed, sighed, and not daring to look at the 
two-ply, for on it rested the rosetted slipper, he sighed 
again and again, and the door closed upon a sigh. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

“ ROVER, DO YOU KNOW MR. WALLACE V 

To go back in our history to the day when Miss 
Thump and the blind man were at the morgue, we may 
recall three facts, namely, that Isaac Harold hurried from 
the shop of Boggs & Co. to the blind man’s corner, but it 
was not occupied, so he waited until evening and reported 
the ready wit of Joe to Mr. Wallace in person ; that Joe, 
after his visit to No. 40 Chapel Street, where he made 
partial engagement of lodging and boarding for a friend 
who was so mythical that he never appeared again to Joe 
or Mrs. Mutter either, hurried also to the blind man’s 
corner, but like Harold found the corner without the 
man, so, called at Jericho and reported the ruse he had 
played to gain access to the presence of Margaret Ray,, 
and returned so far as their roads lay together, with Har- 
old ; that Mr. Trout hastened also to the blind man’s 
corner, Jnd met with no better success than the two be- 
fore him, but unlike them he did not report in the even- 


ROVER AND MR. WALLACE. 


243 


ing to Mr. Wallace. Yet he had a strong desire to meet 
that gentleman, and this desire did not leave him for 
many days after, but he had not things so arranged to 
his mind that, upon more mature deliberation than he 
had taken when he so precipitously hurried to where he 
might have found one who could carry word of his desire 
for an interview, he deemed it quite prudent to risk the 
cool and honest manner of the man, who, he said, had too 
much honor for double-dealing, yet if himself wary of 
showing his cloven foot he might be able to, draw from 
him what he knew. 

So he let time pass, still mindful, however, that the 
blind man kept the corner, till the day after he had ex- 
amined the yellow, tender, and musty. He had called 
upon Miss Ray ; had picked more at the imaginary bit 
of dust on the shiny broadcloth, than he had picked from 
his fair client’s life and memory such useful bits as would 
aid him in strengthening the claims ; had listened more 
to the soft whisperings of love, than to the clear tones of 
craft and cunning, so of course, unheeded, the latter 
had deserted him ; had failed, or thought he had, for he 
did not know thoroughly the owner of the pretty face, 
to make her see, without stating directly that she must , 
falsify, that it would be quite necessary to so place dates 
in her memory, that she would be drawing near eighteen 
instead of twenty-two ; then he thought a man of few 
words and some knowledge might vtnravel the tangled 
skein and make his course so clear that he should have 
his plans so well laid that when he next ventured into 
the bewitching presence of Miss Ray he should not need 
the promptings of craft and cunning — their work must 
be done before. 

In a little haze he was regarding the what he might 
• draw from Mr. Wallace and also the how it was to be 
done, for he began to realize with some mental trepidity 
the quaking ground upon which he was treading. The 
tremor at craft and cunning’s suggestions he did not quail 
before. They had always been faithful aids, and he 
never for a moment doubted them. But love, >vith its 
dainty little foot encased in a prettily rosetted slipper 
with a pearl buckle heart, would pat on the same ground 


244 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


— and the quakes and the tremors, the. yellow, tender, and 
musty, held somewhere, he could not make out clearly the 
locality, by a silver barb with a gracefully knotted ribbon 
at its point, and the four years too many of somebody’s 
life, the something that could not and would not come to 
light, and the confident manner of that somebody that her 
mother had wicked eyes — all these things were a complete 
mass before the eyes of Mr. Trout, and strive as he could 
they took no shape, no form ; no single one stood out as 
a leader for the rest to follow and array themselves as 
upon the side of love, as upon the side of craft and cun- 
ning, as upon the side of things which must be cut down 
in time and softened in memory. 

In this hopelessly mental confusion he sought the 
blind man and asked that he request Mr. Wallace to call 
at his office at his earliest convenience. 

“ Mr. Wallace, Mr. Wallace,” repeated the blind man 
to himself. “ Rover, do you know Mr. Wallace ?” he 
then called aloud to the dog, who pulled so hard at the 
string that the master was jerked off his feet while his 
hat met with the same fate from off his extended hand, 
and it fell, but he did not. The dog caught it speedily, 
however, between his teeth and returned it. 

“ Do you see how much he knows V' said the man 
turning to where he thought Mr. Trout might be. “You 
see, sir, I am a sort of finger-post here, so many leave 
word with me if anything or anybody is needed, and 
when that need comes I am expected to point myself to 
the just where these many may be found.” 

“ But it would suit me far better, my friend, if you 
would point me and not yourself to where this man Wal- 
lace may be found.” If the sightless could have been 
for the moment given sight to look upon the blandness 
with which this was said — blandnesS at his own merry 
saying and at the thought he might outwit easily the man 
without eyes, and thus give himself an insight into the 
whereabouts of this honest rnan, who kept himself so 
aloof when he was needed. “ I can save you the weari- 
ness and peril of finding him,” he continued. 

“ I may be poorer than I am now,” returned the 
mendicant. “ I may be more unfortunate than I am 


ROVER AND MR. WALLACE. 245 

now, but I shall never betray confidence entrusted to 
me.” 

‘‘ You are true, then, in whatever you promise to do, 
for good or for evil V' asked the honest and well reputed 
Trout, pulling at the fob-chain as if he saw a new bait, 
but did not know how to swim for it without too much 
commotion of the waters. 

“ What I once promise I will do, sir, for good or for 
evil,” the man replied firmly, extending his hat in the 
direction of approaching footsteps and saying, “ Please, 
sir, aid the poor and deserving.” 

The passer dropped a coin into the hat, received the 
thanks of the master, and the friendly rub which Rover 
always gave the donor, while the wag kept time to the 
rub and hurried on. 

“ Do you make much in a day ?” asked Mr. Trout in 
a preoccupied way, not as if he cared yo much for the 
welfare of the man as he did for something to talk about 
till he could swim quietly. 

“It depends upon the day and the weather,” replied 
the man evasively. “ I am not always able to be here, and 
as the weather grows cooler and damper, I shall be here 
less and less I fear.” 

“ I told you once I might aid you ; do you remember 
me V' 

“ Perfectly; you are the attorney. Trout, from farther 
on in the Lane.” 

“ Good ; you told me at that time that you never 
forgot footsteps you had once heard.” 

“ And that I never do, you may believe, from the fact 
that I have not forgotten yours.” , 

“ Proof enough, proof enough ; ha ! ha ! as good proof 
as I want, sir. Hi ! Rover, hi ! old fellow,” and the fob- 
chain was dropped to give the white fingers, with their 
well-paired nails, a chance to fillip at the dog, who lying 
crouched at his master’s feet, looked up without raising 
his head, and muttered, grumbled, and then growled. 

“ Rover, Rover,” cried the master, “up, sir, up, and 
be a good dog. The gentleman will be kind to us as he 
promises, I know by his voice, and you will get the better 
meat by it. Now, up, up, and show your gratitude.” 


'246 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


The dog did as he was bidden, .but there was no 
heart and no spring in his jump. He allowed himself to 
be caressed, but the white hand was a little chary of 
its bestowments, for the tail looked quite as ominous as 
the growl had sounded. 

“ He will know me in time; we won’t fear trouble 
with that. Here is a bit for the legacy. You know you 
told me of the dog’s legacy, to be, that is.” 

“ Thanks, sir, thanks ; you are very kind to the poor. 

I will serve you in any way, gladly.” 

“ I shall see you before long. Being a lawyer, it may 
not surprise you that to bring the hidden to light, I need 
detectives, spies. It is all lawful work. And why not 
pay a needy man, if he can render the same service of a 
well-to-do 1 That is my policy, and I told you before, I 
am dubbed the counsellor in time of need ; but that 
means, you see, when the pocket is so needy that it can’t 
give for the counsel what it ought. I never charge, in 
such cases, never, and do as much, even more than I 
know most of my calling would. I will do for you and 
your friends at any time, with zeal. I know you and 
your dog are honest and worthy. I have often looked at 
you from my window in pity, and hoped I might some 
day aid you ; not that I would want a poor, sightless 
man to be pulled here and there in a suit, not at all, but 
something else might be found, to need an adviser, papers 
to be drawn up ; the legacy, however small, to be prop- 
erly looked after. You will find me conscientious, very.” 

“You might be,” said the man, “so long as I lived, 
but how could I tell what you might do when I am gone ? 
The dog could be easily knocked on the head, and the 
legacy pocketed. I am on the lookout for somebody who 
will do the right thing by Rover, and as I am growing 
every day in pains, no doubt got by standing here so long 
at a time, in sun and in rain, the legacy may come to him 
soon. You are good, sir, without doubt, but I must have 
some assurance that the few pounds wouldn’t be a temp- 
tation to let the poor dog seek his own food, or else, as I 
said, send him where he wouldn’t need meat. I must be- 
gin to look about me, I know, and I may find nobody 
more trusty. Money, if it is ever so little, is such a temp- 


ROVER AND MR. WALLACE, 


247 


tation to folks nowadays. It don’t stop with the doing 
away of a dog, either. I know some things, if I am 
blind, and I can follow somebody, too, who has brought 
me where I am. I was not always poor ; I was not 
always blind.” 

Another bait ; swim cautiously, cautiously. Trout. 
Too much confused you are already. Too many hooks 
are concealed by what you most love — gold ; little or big, 
in clear or muddy stream — only let it be gold, and you 
dart for it. Some day, legal sir, you may be hooked, 
sorely hooked, torn in the gills, and left flopping on the 
strand. 

“ Eh, eh,” returned the lawyer. “ You, too, a victim 
of somebody’s love of gain 1 I thought as much, my 
friend ; you have not the air and boldness of a profes- 
sional beggar. Let me aid you, let me give you my 
services, free. If I win, a small per cent. ; if I lose, noth- 
ing, not a shilling. I am only too glad to help a poor 
man like you.” 

“ Let me come to your own room, sir, and I will state 
my case. I cannot give you much to begin — ” 

“Not a farthing, my friend, not a farthing. Glad to 
serve you, I told you. Yes, come and see me. I am 
laying myself open to the prying women of Lunley, by 
lingering here. Let me see ; come to-morrow, say at 
ten ; a good hour, very good. Calls not urgent then. 
Recollect Mr. Wallace, as soon as it is convenient. 
This afternoon at two, if he can. Good day, sir.” 

Another drop in the stream, and the hat drew down 
somewhat heavily with the half-crown he threw in 
with an air of charity, of condescension, of contempt 
for such small coin, and of blandness all so mixed that 
neither prevailed. 

“ You are so good, sir, let me do all I can for you. 
Good day. Stand up. Rover, and bark your thanks.” 

The dog obeyed, without any gratitude of heart, and 
with much sulkiness of mailner. 

“ Well, well,” said the attorney, as he betook himself 
with short, choppy steps, owing to the heaviness of the 
seal at the end of the fob, up the Lane. “ 1 never looked 
for an opening in that direction, and yet, who knows what 


.248 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


it may turn out ? Marplot’s case, years ago, was more 
obscure, I dare say, than this man’s ; yet see where I am 
to-day in that. Almost got it, and Marplot, too, if he 
don’t keep silent. I’ll pay him well, on condition he 
leaves England. No, I’ll do better. I’ll settle an annuity 
on him, with the same proviso, and then he can’t spend 
it all and be forever threatening me if I don’t pay more. 
He is fixed, and after a little I can train Miss Ray so 
that — ” here he was obliged to close his eyes, to keep 
out the patting slipper with its pearl buckle hearted 
rosette, the silver arrow, and the knot of ribbon : hav- 
ing put these down and away, he continued — “ so that her 
memory will mellow the wicked eyes, and forget the sur- 
plus four years. But the one thing lacking, the lost 
link — no, it can’t be lost ; I must alone be its finder. Ha ! 
ha ! I know how to do that ; I alone. That is it. If I 
am alone in it, there will be no telling tales. I might say 
now,” and he rubbed his white hands together so closely 
that they were reddened, “ I might say that I see three 
fair estates before me — two, anyway, and the third, this 
blind man’s, may grow as I handle it ; who knows Two, 
at least, I say — Ivandale and Ray. The latter holds in 
it the Glentworth property, which swells it, it may be, 
beyond the Ivandale. I am on so sure a way, I might 
give that simple hearted, innocent partner of mine notice 
that I shall soon retire. But I will wait till I have seen 
this man Wallace ; yes, and heard, too, the blind man’s 
story, for I might find it would pay to keep in the legal 
trade till that was well manipulated. I suppose Marplot 
thinks I might let him know how near I am to claim 
Ivandale and carrying out his- plan. Well, I will see him 
soon, cool him off, or rather, wipe him off, the slimy dog, 
and some day show him what I claim. Lucky fish, you 
are. Trout, and all in such clear water, too !” 

By this time the breath of Mr. Trout had become 
so short that he could spend no more of it in speech. 
And it is just as well, perhaps, for a little must be left 
for climbing the long flight to his office, and some also 
for the bland smile and suave manner with which he 
would there greet Mr. Thump, the clerk, and even the 
charwoman, if she were about, so pleasing and plausible 


ROVER AND MR. WALLACE. 249 

did he make himself to everybody, this honest and well 
reputed lawyer. 

The blind man listened to the retreating footsteps, 
took the half-crown from his hat, ran his hand along the 
string till he came to Rover, who was so intent upon 
growling and showing his teeth to the self-satisfied form 
chopping its way up the Lane, that he did not notice the 
hand till it was upon him. He started up, head, ears, 
and tail, jumped lightly about, and lapped the hand. 

‘‘ Here, here. Rover, good fellow, we know what we are 
about.” The master addressed him in a tone so low that 
the dog put his head down close, ceased jumping, lapping 
and wagging, that he might not lose a word. “ Be a bit 
more friendly, and our work may be the sooner done. 
You and I, good Rover, have stood in sun and fog : I have 
listened; you have watched. We stood days before the 
first nibble from this Trout so wily, and we have waited 
weeks for this, his second nibble, which tasted so tender, 
that he will come soon again, do not fear. If we can 
make him inclined to swallow next time, we will keep the 
bait in his mouth, till time to make him feel the hook. 
Then, Rover, you and I will not stand here ; we will 
live on the legacy, or if we see fit, go to a more cheery 
climate where the sun and the fog are not forever at 
strife, and neither ever conquers. It was as hard, good 
Rover, for me to give thanks in a becoming manner for 
his half-crown, as it was for you ; but there is what we 
are wronged out of, you and I ; and those we love, were 
wronged more than we ; so if he will help us win, we must 
not mind his smile that has no meaning in it, nor his 
offers that have no heart in them. Our thanks are just 
as empty. You have always played your part well. 
Rover, till now ; and if I have made you see that our 
waiting has not been in vain, and will soon be at an end, 
I know you will help me hold the bait just as it should 
be held, trolling-like, gently on and on, till, hi ! how 
suddenly the hook will sting, and the Trout be — where ? 

“ Then frisk, wag, jump, bark and lap for joy, good 
Rover. Our work will be done, and a good work it will 
be, too ; but oh ! that ever it should be necessary to do it ! 
There is where the sorrow comes, the heart-stab, the tear 


250 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


unbidden ; but since it must be, we are glad to be able to 
do it, and how could your blind master do it alone ? So 
you shall share the honor, the glory of catching this Trout. 
Now, be more friendly, old fellow, and as we have done 
enough for to-day, and must let Mr. Wallace know he is 
wanted, we will travel to Jericho and find him. The day 
is well on to its middle, and he must be at the office in 
Lunley by two o’clock ; so we will-take ourselves off.” 

The dog put his paws on his master’s shoulder, laid 
his head down on his paws, gave two or three short, quick 
barks, as if understanding the present, and meaning to 
acquiesce in the future. 

The master turned his head upon the side till it lay 
upon the dog’s, and continued, “ I knew you would un- 
derstand, good, faithful Rover. Our rovings will soon 
be over, I hope, and what an old age of ease you shall 
have. Up ! up ^ and let us hurry to Jericho. Mr. Wallace, 
you remember.^ Ha ! you know Mr. Wallace !” 

The dog stepped down, the man stood up, took the 
leading-string in one hand, the cane in the other ; and 
Jericho was their destination. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE TROUT TOYS WITH ANOTHER BAIT. 

The fob-chain was uneasy. Its great seal was swung 
about as if there were no chain to be tortured and twisted, 
pulled and jerked. The knees crossed and uncrossed 
themselves, adding lustre to the broadcloth. The boots 
had been superseded by low pumps held together by 
broad silken ties with exact loops and smooth cross-pieces 
over th,e looping. The hose that these pumps displayed 
to such advantage were silken also, but finer threaded, 
fairer spun, and of fairer color than the ties. Tlmhands 
were still white; the middle finger of the right was 
blotted, but the contrast was the stronger for that, owing 


TROUT AND BAIT, 


251 


to the necessity of swinging the fob, torturing the chain, 
and exercising the knees. The quill which caused the 
blot had been abandoned, and the hand which held it 
was engaged by the aid of its index-finger and thumb in 
searching with renewed vigor for the same imaginary bit 
of dust which was so assiduously hunted for, but not 
found, in the presence of Miss Ray. The revolving seat 
became uneasy at the lack of success in the pursuit of 
this dust, so it began to turn as if to put the broadcloth 
in every light possible to favor the cause. In one of its 
revolutions it stopped short, for tap, tap, it heard upon 
the curtained glass door, a facsimile of the one beside 
it which concealed the junior as this did the senior part- 
ner of the firm of Trout & Thump from the outer room 
where anybody could step in and be received by the 
clerk on duty. 

“Come in! come in !” came from Mr. Trout. The 
voice he gave this bidding in, to the unseen expressed 
belief that somebody had probably called upon him, and 
a shaken confidence in his ability to comport himself so 
exactly to his mind as to find out all he could from this 
somebody without letting himself be found out too much 
in return. 

“ A gentleman on private business, sir, who has ap- 
pointed the hour of two,” came from the clerk very 
closely upon the “ come in, come in,” from the lawyer. 

“ Show him in at once,” said the latter gaining so fast 
over his nervous fears as to turn the chair, so that it 
faced his table and, consequently, brought him into the 
same relative position with that article of furniture which 
was well strewn with papers written upon, scribbled upon 
and blank, folded straight and crumpled, quills made, 
unmade and worn out, pointing to briefs and lying idly 
and untidily upon blotters; and amid all these Mr. Trout 
was busily, bustlingly searching and scrambling with one 
of the aforementioned quills over his right ear, but that 
it happened to be an unmade one he did not notice, but 
which his visitor, whom nothing escaped, so keen was 
his scent on the track of his game, did notice. 

“ Mr. Wallace, indeed ! Mr. Wallace,” and so bland 
was the smile of welcome, so warm was the right hand 


252 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


extended while the other felt anxiously for the crown 
lock, which had long been among the irrecoverable, that 
if Mr. Wallace had not known the man better he might 
have thought the smile was a veritable smile, and the 
shake of the hand heartfelt, and the astonishment not 
feigned when he drew forth a heavy timepiece, and with 
it, the fob and its great ending — the seal — exclaiming, 
“ Can it be two o’clock } It is, it is ; how time runs with 
a busy man ! I have never found anything that could 
beat it, sir ; never ! And the trouble is you cannot catch 
it ; hurry as you will, you cannot. There is no use in 
trying; I gave up the race some time ago, and yet there 
are some people — ” 

(“Shut up!” said craft, “don’t you see what a fool 
you are making of yourself.? You are talking and don’t 
know a word you are saying. Catch time ! catch time ! 
you’ll be caught by something worse than time, if you 
don’t take care how you show your weakness.” 

“ Hold your tongue,” here piped in cunning. “ Turn 
off what you have said as some of your well-known wit, 
‘play upon words ’ you call it, I believe, and give one of 
your blandest. Don’t you see that honesty keeps cool 
and calm.? Now, how can we find its weak points un- 
less we are the same ? We will help you, but you must 
not expect it, if you are going to let yourself out as a fool 
the first thing. He’s quick-witted, he’s sharp, he sees 
through you. Shut up, now, and let us work. First turn 
off what you said. Play on it, or prance on it, or any- 
thing else, so you regain as much as you can of your 
lost ground at the outset.”) 

Acting at once on these suggestions he continued, 
“ There are some people who can beat time.” Here he 
looked up with his mouth at its broadest and his eyes 
at their narrowest, prematurely grinning, each in its 
way, at the wit of its owner. “ I know a man who can 
do it so — one,” and the white hand, with five fingers 
extended, came down ; “ two,” and it went to the left ; 
“ three,” and it went back to the point in the air whence 
it had started. “ Such people are lucky to be able to 
beat time. “ Now, Mr. Wallace, here is a comfortable 
«eat, and we shall be undisturbed so long as we choose to 


TROUT AND BAIT. 


253 


confer with one another. First, sir, let me beg leave to 
arrange some papers of importance to my many clients as 
you caught me at my busiest — ” 

“ I am sorry if I have anticipated the fulfilment of 
your request by even a few moments,” began Mr. Wal- 
lace drawing out his indicator of the whereabouts of the 
great runaway — time. “ I know a man of business does 
not like engagements kept ahead or behind the hour set 
for them, but I think I am doing neither.” 

“ Right, sir, quite right, I am the delinquent,” said 
the lawyer, leaning here and there over the table in search 
for documents which mated, paired, and matched, while 
the fob swung the great seal aimlessly about, endangering 
the stands of ink and the racks of quills. 

(“ There, there,” whispered cunning, “ you have said 
enough about being busy. Too much coloring to your 
picture won’t do. Sit down and go to work. I am here ; 
craft is here. We will pit ourselves against honesty, and 
win, if you will do the square thing by us. Give us full 
sway over you.”) 

“Now I am ready, Mr. Wallace,” he went on, after 
listening to the above admonition, while tying a bundle 
here, and clasping a package there. The chair turned 
easily, noiselessly, till its occupant could face his visitor. 
“You say, that is, you told me at our last, first, and only 
interview, some weeks ago, that you knew somewhat of 
the estate whose heiress I represent.” 

“Yes,” began Mr. Wallace, settling himself back 
without confusion in the leather-cushioned chair, which 
matched the one occupied by the attorney, only it did 
not revolve. “Yes, I know of it, sir, and have known 
of it for some time — a long time, in fact.” 

*Ah, ah !” returned Mr. Trout in a tone that to his 
visitor’s ready ear meant, “ then you are just the man I 
would like to know, too.” 

“ Yes,” continued the man who was honest, too hon- 
est, Trout had always thought, for his purpose, “ it would 
not be in the least surprising if I knew of this before 
you did. Not that I am pressing or going to press any 
claim upon it, but that I would like to see it saved from 
the crown. That is my interest, one that you must 


254 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


admit gives me no reward ; so it is not that I seek, you 
see.” 

“ But you might be rewarded, sir, and would be, no 
doubt. Your simplicity is rare. Do you not know that 
such a service as settling, by your knowledge, the estate 
— estates I should say ; there are two, you know — in the 
^possession of the rightful owner would be handsomely 
rewarded ?” 

“ It would be of little moment to me,” returned Mr. 
Wallace. “ Have you found the rightful owner, as you 
term her?” and he looked searchingly into the face of 
the man before him. 

The revolving chair turned a little, but the arc it de- 
scribed was short, for cunning whispered, “ Don’t flinch,” 
and the lawyer answered boldly, “ I have, sir.” 

“ Without doubt ?” 

“ Without a shadow of doubt. But one link is mis- 
sing, and that is — ” 

“ Is the proof of marriage between her parents,” said 
Mr. Wallace quietly, taking the words from his lips, 
“ which has not yet been found.” 

“ Exactly, exactly,” and nervously, quickly the knees 
uncrossed themselves, the white hands slid down the 
lustrous broadcloth, till one rested on either knee, the 
exactly-tied pumps rested also, but upon the floor — this 
they could just do without too much of a drawing up 
from the region of the heels, for revolving chairs, it must 
be known to the reader, are necessarily somewhat higher 
than those of ordinary construction, and as we have here- 
tofore ascertained that a fob-chain was always found to 
suspend over a short lap, and this latter would call for a 
corresponding shortness from the knees down, so we say 
the pumps were most fortunate to find the chair tilted 
upon that individual thread in the great screw upon 
which it was balanced, that gave them rest upon the floor, 
although the display of silk hose was so great, that one 
was forcibly reminded of a boy who had outgrown his 
trousers in length of leg. 

To go back to the slidden hands. We said they 
rested on the knees. They soon began to rub, not to 
give strength as when they were in the presence of Miss 


'.TROUT AND BAIT. 


‘255 

Ray, blit to express an inward satisfaction at finding, 
with so slight exertion, the very man he most needed, 
and also to give himself time to think carefully, that he 
might act cautiously, cunningly, craftily. 

“You have been well informed, but have also not 
been informed that it is liable to be brought to light 
any hour, any moment, perhaps ; that records are being 
searched which will soon place the title clear legally,” he 
finally added. 

“ Indeed !” 

Mr. Wallace may have been surprised at this decided 
success the searcher would meet with, or may not have 
been. His air, his look was equivocal. He kept still, 
however, and retained a passive manner with it all, which 
annoyed the attorney. 

“Yes, at any instant it may be in my hand, and then 
nothing remains but immediate action ; immediate action 
to place the estate in the hands of my fair client.” The 
very thought of it started the hands on a newer and 
quicker traversing of the lustrous knees, while the body 
bent forward, and the eyes narrowed again, as the mouth 
broadened. 

“ I am glad, very glad that the time of settlement is so 
near at hand, for the one to whom it justly belongs — but 
this can be only of the Ray side, for have you proof that 
the last of the Radnors is dead.^” and the questioner 
again looked fairly in the eye of the Trout, who was be- 
ginning under these suggestions, covertly given, facts 
coolly stated, and questions, which showed knowledge of 
the subject, frankly asked, to swim uneasily. 

“There’s a chance t(i turn to your own advantage. 
You- see, he knows more than you thought he did, so 
make the most of him,” whispered craft. “Yes,” added 
cunning, “ you’ve paved the way well for the hidden 
proof which shall come to light when we are ready for 
it ; he, he, he !” 

“ Now,” cried the lawyer in suppressed glee, which 
melted speedily into blandness, and from that into con- 
fidence, “ you are a cli — no, not a client, beg pardon, 
but an adviser worth advising with. You hit the nail at 
one blow, and that the first one. This is the very point 


256 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


upon which I wish to confer with you ; this question of 
death or no death. If it is death, my client finds the last 
block removed ; if no death, why on this very point I can 
keep it from seizure by the crown. And it is consoling, 
sir, to know that if it is no death yet, it soon will be. In 
mercy’s name, how long does that man want to live } 
He, if still alive, must be now — let me see, I have it in 
my memoranda.” 

“To save you the trouble of reference, let me say 
he will be ninety-eight on the third of November,” Mr. 
Wallace quietly asserted. 

“ Ha, ha, you seem well posted on the coming — I 
wish you could be quite as exact regarding the going of 
this slippery fellow.” Nettled at every bit of informa- 
tion his visitor volunteered, and yet hoping for some new 
clue which he might secretly work upon, Mr. Trout tried 
to appear satisfied, delighted with the course things were 
taking. 

“ I may be soon — at least, I hope to be. For as you 
say, if he has not gone over, his feet must, at least, be on 
the line between this life and the other.” 

“Yes, Mr. Wallace, that is logical reasoning of every 
other man in England or out ; but this man has never 
lived like other people, if the stories of him are true, 
and I fear he won’t die like other people either,” and the 
shining place on the crown which had been made so by 
the many passings over it of the white hand in search of 
the lost lock, gleamed far at the side, for the head was 
turned in that direction, while the smile overspread the 
face. 

Had not Mr. Trout said something funny? 

It might be, but Mr. Wallace was too. earnest in the 
object of his visit, for it is quite probable that he would 
have called if he had not been requested to do so, had no 
ear for humor, and no heart for jest, and said gravely, “ I 
have traced him and lost trace, but I have not yet aban- 
doned the pursuit.” 

In an instant the head was erect, the smile gone. Here 
was one who might prove disastrous or advantageous to 
his cause, but the manipulation must be skilfully done, 
^^e saw at once that this man was playing a game as well 


TROUT AND BAIT 


257 


as himself ; but there was a rural honesty, sincerity, and 
frankness about him that discomfited the wily lawyer, 
and he listened for suggestions. . 

Craft said, “ Make him your friend, if you can, but 
your confident by no means.” 

Cunning added, “ Let him alone and he will tell all he 
knows, but be quiet yourself. Hold fast to the claim of 
your client in all respects. Bold front now. The game 
will run close.” 

“ And as you are so good, Mr. Wallace, as to volun- 
teer other information, may I ask when you lost trace 1 
You are not obliged to give more than you see fit. I am 
already possessed of surety on every point but this, as I 
tell you ; but I already have a scout out for that very 
thing, and trust he may not scout in vain.” 

“Yes, I know him; his name is Barley.” So calmly 
and without an undue movemep^t of muscle was this said, 
that Mr. Trout was brought suddenly to bay. He en- 
deavored to look unconcerned, and be unconcerned. He 
struggled for mastery over his surprise, and he also strug- 
gled for breath, which he suddenly declared was much 
impeded by the close atmosphere of the room. 

Mr. Wallace . noticed the endeavoring to look, the 
endeavoring to be, and the stragglings in vain, but he 
seemed unmoved as he went on. 

“To reply to your question, Mr. Trout, I will say that 
I lost trace when he left Wenham.” 

“ That was sometime ago,” said the lawyer regaining 
his composure. “I have knowledge of him since then.” 

“ I have no doubt your facilities as a legal gentleman 
are greater than mine. So if you knew of him at a 
later date, I fear I can be of no use to you, and may as 
well not prolong the interview ; but I will say that if I 
learn of aught that will help this cause upon that score, 
you shall hear from me at once. It may be just as well 
to keep my name and my knowledge in the shade. It 
can do those who are aiding you no good to know of 
me, and might make them less zealous in their search. 
However, it is of no material matter to me whether I am 
known or not known.” 

“ It is better, I find, that the information is more 


258 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


thoroughly gained when one alone considers himself 
concerned, so of you I shall find it policy to say nothing. 
But let me thank you for your disinterestedness, and in 
the name of my client assure you that such a cause as 
you are serving unsought, will not go uncompensated 
when she comes into possession. A happy hour, that, 
sir, for one who has the blood of a gentlewoman in her 
veins, and is forced to live as she has been living since 
her early remembrance. That was a sad ending — the 
mother I mean.” And the Trout not content to listen 
to cunning, but venturing into deep water, endangered 
himself to another bait. 

“ Yes, I knew her, and sorrowed deeply for her strange 
disappearanee,” came the bait from Mr. Wallace as he 
looked at his watch. 

“ Then you might like to meet my client, her daughter, 
Mr. Wallace,” said the lawyer quickly, and the next mo- 
ment bitterly repented the rashness and heedlessness with 
which he had listened to cunning’s “ Be quiet yourself.” 

“I should, Mr. Trout, if the honor, the pleasure 
could be gained through you, but first gain her consent 
without letting her know that I was a friend of her 
mother — or I should rather say, an acquaintance — for to 
tell you the truth, Mr. Trout, I am a native of the pretty 
village of Wenham, and the details of the case are fa- 
miliar to me.” 

“You may have witnessed the marriage. If so, sir, 
the estate is — ” 

“ No, no, I did not ; unfortunately it may be for your 
client, I did not,” and for the first time Mr. Wallace 
showed some slight change from the calm, passive man- 
ner he had maintained. “ But I must be obliged to bid 
you good day, sir, for another engagement calls me.” 

“ One moment, one moment, Mr. Wallace, and I will 
let you go. Did you ever know of another heir to the 
Ray estate ?” 

“Another than Margaret.^ Pray who could it be.^” 
The tone of the question was so replete with surprise, 
whether feigned or real, that the Trout again realized 
he had made an unnecessary eddy for himself in waters 
which within an hour had grown turbulent and muddy. 


TROUT AND BAIT, 


259 


“Well, no one who is to be feared as coming in for a 
claim. He is a worthless fellow, or always was, I learn. 
Marplot, one Marplot; did you ever hear of him ?” 

“ Dan Marplot ?” 

“ That is his name, I believe. Let me refer again to 
my data. It sounds like Dan ; yes, D. Marplot. You 
have a good memory, Mr. Wallace, surely.” 

“ I knew of him in our younger days. But are you 
sure that he is related to the good old Major Ray .? If 
that be true, let me warn you that the quieter he keeps, 
the slyer he is working, that is, if he bears the same nature 
he did in his youth, and there is no reason to think that 
he has outgrown it. I have no personal acquaintance 
with him of late years, but the blind man who brought me 
your request knows of him, I think, to his bitter grief. 
He may tell you more than I can. Good day again, Mr. 
Trout, and when, if at all, Miss Ray will receive me, the 
same person will bear to me your pleasure upon the sub- 
ject. Good day.” 

“ Good day,” said the lawyer, who wanted to keep his 
visitor, and yet cunning was loud in her advising. “ Let 
him go, let him go, and we will think over the best way 
to manage him.” 

So, after a brisk walk with thoughtful brow, and yet 
not troubled mind, Mr. Wallace knocked upon the little 
smoke-dried door of Isaac Harold. At once there was a 
stir within, both from a man and a dog, and there might 
also have been from a bird, but the latter was so slight 
that it could not be heard without, as the other two were. 
Isaac needed now no throwing on of the cloak, and ad- 
justing of the sack, and pirouetting into the peaked hat, 
and then soon after emerging as if totally unconscious of 
there having been a rap upon the street door, but he came 
hurriedly to it, unbolted, unbarred, unlocked, unlatched, 
and admitted his evidently expected guest. We said 
there was a stir from a dog; and so there was, and a very 
lively one, too ; and the dog who occasioned it was no less 
a dog than Rover, who found it still lonely and stupid 
keeping dearie company, and was boisterously glad to 
see his master. 

While the new comer was patting him, feeding the 


26 o 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


starling and smelling, not ungraciously, the bacon and the 
tea laid on at an unusually early hour — the one to broil, 
the other to simmer — Mr. Harold was bringing from the 
corner the leather-covered chair which we have found 
there before with the owner’s assistance, and whose rest- 
ing qualities are not new to us, or to Mr. Wallace, that is, 
for body. 

‘‘ Not one word now, Great Heart, till we have supped,” 
began the Little Man, with a wave of his hand in silence 
to what he thought were a few words of disclosure from 
Mr. Wallace, as he sank into the chair. 

“ I was only going to say,” said that gentleman, “that 
you are having your evening meal at a much earlier hour 
than is your custom, or mine, and that I shall be in 
Jericho in ample time for the good things there set 
forth ; so, now do not step out of your ordinary \yay for 
me, good Isaac.” 

“ Hush, hush,” the Little Man broke in. “ Can I ever 
do enough for you ? I told dearie that I knew you would 
be aweary, and so you are ; aweary in heart, aweary in 
brain, and aweary in body. When will the last gathering 
come 1 The one more gathering, I mean, for her and 
hers,” and his voice dropped into a reverent whisper. 
“But not a word, not a word till you have had a sip of 
my tea, my tea. Who makes tea like me. Great Heart.? 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! there is another kind of tea I shall make 
some day,” he muttered to himself as he laid the little 
table for two, crowding somewhat the dishes, it is true, 
but making their contents none the less freely offered, and 
none the less freely partaken of. “ I shall make it, and 
somebody will drink it, too. It will burn, it will boil him, 
it will broil him, but he shall never stop feeling, never. 
He shall drink and I shall keep it hot while he swallows 
and strangles, but never stops drinking, drinking. Ha ! 
ha ! what a happy cup for me, and what a sorry cup for 
him. But think of the great cup of misery he put to my 
lips, and I drank till there was not a drop left, and what 
did he do.? He laughed, he sneered, and sneaked away; 
he blistered my heart, he burned my soul. Is it not time 
I made tea for him? Yes, Great Heart, and I am fast 
gathering what will make it. The pin is in the cushion, 


TROUT AND BAIT. 


261 


only waiting and resting for him. “ Now, Great Heart,” 
he turned to Mr. Wallace, and with a low bow, which 
brought his great poking nose between his knees, flour- 
ished his hand, as soon thereafter as he was erect enough 
to do so, toward the table, “ sit up, sit near, sit by. 
Dearie shall perch on the back of my chair, and your 
dog shall sit here between you and me, just where dearie 
can see him ; she is so fond of him, dearie is.” 

“ Time’s up! time’s up!” came a voice from the hand 
of Mr. Wallace, where the starling had perched herself 
for the expected crumbs. 

“ Yes, time’s up for the broil and the simmer, and if it 
was only up for something else. Great Heart, you wouldn’t 
be so weary in here,” and Harold put his long thin hand 
upon his heart, shaking his head sadly. 

“ It will be before long, Isaac ; but as you said we will 
eat. Your tea makes me hungry, not thirsty, for such as 
you make is food as well as drink.” And he perched the 
bird over her master, sat down himself opposite and 
pointed to the dog’s place by his side within dearie’s 
scope of vision, which, had the dog known it, would have 
been much inclined to beg leave for a place under the 
table, or behind his master’s chair, for it was impossible 
for him ever to reciprocate dearie’s affection, and there- 
fore to appreciate her delicate flattery. 

Method was still mixed with time in the usual pro- 
portion, so the water for the laving of the clear china 
cups, saucers, plates which did not match, the spoons, 
knives and forks which did not mate, was heating” to a 
boil while the tea was sipped and the cake and preserves 
eaten. This was a red-letter day in the quiet, lonely life 
at Blue Bottle Court, and must be marked with some- 
thing sweet, so these were daintily minced and munched 
by Harold and dearie, while Great Heart ate them as if 
they were not out of the ordinary course, and his dog 
ignored them disdainfully, perhaps because dogs in gen- 
eral care not for them, but more probably because dearie 
found them so palatable. 

The meal over, the dishes disposed of, the crumbs 
brushed from the table, the floor and the hearth, Harold 
laughed, “ Method, time ; without one, where would the 


262 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


other be ? Where would I be, it’s better to say ? By 
method I’ve saved time, and with time I’ve saved pounds 
enough to keep dearie and me from want and cold, that 
is, if we don’t live too long.” 

“Time’s up ! time’s up!” screamed the bird, hearing 
her name mentioned affectionately, and supposing it 
meant a reference to some goodies laid away, thought 
she had best announce the fact that the time of their 
concealment was at an end. 

“ No, no, dearie, time is not up ; I must contradict 
you. We are nearing a gathering which the sack cannot 
hold, I hope, but after that I see no reason why time 
should not be up below here, where there is so much to 
do and so little time to do it. It is quite as well to be 
hanging up one’s sack, and be on the road where none 
is needed, and work where, though there is much to do 
there is plenty of time to do it. I shall expect to find 
you there, dearie, and I shall sort and gather, sort and 
gather among the birds there, till I find you, and then 
the crumbs and the hempen, how good they will taste. 
But, dearie, don’t perk your head and look so roguishly 
at me. There is something to be done before then. 
Yes, and it may be something sad and weary for me, I 
can’t just tell. I ask thein^ and they shake their heads 
and don’t tell me.” 

While saying this, he had re-filled the bird’s drinking 
cup, brushed out her cage, and then held out his finger 
toward her; she alighted on it, looked sharply for more 
dainties, whistled disapproval at the absence of such, 
jumped into the open door, again calling, “ Time’s up ! 
time’s up !” 

“ Yes,” he continued, turning to Mr. Wallace, “when 
the Great Chimney smokes and puffs^ I feel when one 
wrong is made right in it, another will be done. I want 
to get out of the Chimney, Great Heart, I do, and I shall 
when hers has been gathered. I must smell the fields 
again. I must feel the dew in the morning. But here, 
what can one feel, even if he is near the top of the great 
puffing, snorting Chimney ? Could the fresh dew be 
found where the smoke rolls out at every writhing within .? 
I mustn’t talk about it ; I mustn’t talk about it. It draws 


TROUT AND BAIT. 


263 


me up, draws me up in the legs, in the arms, in the head, 
and worst of all in the heart. It draws me sometimes 
so, to think of it, that I can’t get abroad early, no 1 can’t. 
Great Heart. I make more tea, I put in it sticks, pins, 
needles, and I sit in front of the fire while they simmer, 
and I laugh while they boil, and I laugh loud while they 
bubble, and I straighten out while they hop up and down, 
on head, on point, and I fold my arms and think how 
they pierce, how they prickle, how they tear, how they 
lacerate when he drinks a cup of them. So while I am 
waiting for the making of this tea, the sun does what it 
never has done before since I began to make gatherings 
— it gets abroad before I do. The thought of that, too, 
draws me up, and sometimes I miss good gatherings, but 
I can’t help it. Why, sometimes with all the thoughts 
that come, Great Heart, the thoughts of all the cups that 
have been simmered and drank, all the needles that have 
been plunged into hearts, it draws one up so that when 
I begin to loosen, I catch up the sack and run after 
the sun for fear if I stay in where the tea is simmer- 
ing, and the big pin in the cushion waiting, that I shall 
never straighten again. Curse him ! curse him ! But I 
must listen now for what you have to say — once or twice 
will do, up and down,” and the hands were thrust out, 
the open palms fell upon, the long pointed shoes were 
up, the head was down, the shoes were down, the head 
was up, across the room, once, twice, and he was on his 
feet. “ Ready, Great Heart, ready.” 

He drew the old pin cushion in front of the leather- 
covered chair which Wallace had again sunk into after 
he had partaken of the good meal and had declared that 
he felt the better for it. The thin legs were doubled 
very pointedly at the knee, making the shorts draw very 
tightly over the surface they covered beneath with a 
corresponding looseness above ; the slender arms were 
drawn around the knee ; the long fingers were clasped 
to secure them ; the face of the Little Man was full of 
eagerness, and yet a shadow of dread there lurked be- 
neath, and this he confessed, when looking up into the 
face of Wallace, he began the interview by saying, “ I am 
ready, and I am not ready. I want to hear, and I don’t 


264 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


want to hear. If you bring out anything new that he 
has done, and you see it begins to draw me up, stop at 
once. Let me first get the cushion that has the big pin 
waiting in it. So I can pry him now and then.” 

“ Do not be alarmed, Isaac, I have nothing of him to 
tell you that is new. The lawyer is the one I shall tell 
you the most of. You know he sent for me ?” 

“ So the blind man told me,” laughed Harold with a 
merry ha ! ha ! ha ! “ that’s good ; yes, I met him. He 
was on his way to Jericho, and I was on my way to 
an engagement with some gatherings awaiting me in 
Soho — you might not believe how my trade with the 
nobs increases. Well, that’s nothing now.” 

“Yes, I got the word from the blind man,” returned 
Mr. Wallace with a smile quite as significant, “ and not 
being sure of plenty of time, I sent the dog with the note 
to tell you I would call on my way from Lunley Lane ; 
and I have, and found so hospitable a greeting for the 
body and soul, that I must thank you again for it, good 
Isaac.” 

“ Hush, hush. Great Heart,” said Isaac. “ The law- 
yer, now, and not the thanks.” 

“Yes,” began Mr. Wallace, “ we will come to it now. 
I was on time, exact. He was nervous ; he pretended 
I surprised him. I did not. He looked anxiously for 
my coming. He played business bustle, but I read him. 
He did not know what information I was possessed of, 
and he did not want me to know how much he was. So 
he hesitated, referred to memoranda, and I told him 
quietly what he sought. It startled, it stunned, and I 
left him thinking he had pulled wool over my eyes, for 
in his endeavor to overcome the startling and the stun- 
ning, a cunning look twinkled in his little eyes, and he 
made me, or tried to make me think that he considered 
it very lucky that I had fallen into his net.” 

“ And did not see,” chimed in Harold, “that the net 
was yours, and the draw to be made by and by T' 

“ No, certainly not; he is a sharp lawyer and a cun- 
ning Trout, too !” 

“But bait, good bait, such as you can throw, Great 
Heart, will coax out of nook the slyest.” 


TROUT AND BAIT. 


265 


“ I hope so ; that is what I throw for.” 

“And you’ll catch, you’ll catch; only don’t get so 
aweary as you did to-day. It made me feel like drawing 
up to see you. But now for your gatherings from the 
Trout, open your sack and let us see.” 

“Yes, yes. Isaac, listen close now, and remember 
them. First, I let him gather that I had long known of 
these estates ; that I want to keep them from the crown, 
and want no remuneration for service, and that I know 
the one link needful for the Ray estate.” 

“ Ha ! ha !” broke in Isaac, “ but you did not tell him 
where it might be found.?” 

“ He told me where it was — no, not where it was, but 
that it was being searched for, and might come to light 
any moment. And then he saw his way clear, being sure 
of the heiress.” 

“ I’ve known people. Great Heart, to be the surest 
when they were the most mistaken,” again broke in Har- 
old, looking at the nondescript piece of furniture that 
held the “ papers of state.” * 

“ Now, here comes my gathering, Isaac ; don’t put it 
in the same sack, his and mine — that he is sharp enough 
to make the link. That is his game.” 

“ Then it is no wonder that they are liable to come to 
the light any moment, and when they do, we must look 
sharp. Great Heart.” 

“ Now, do you wonder I looked aweary when I 
came ? Next it was his turn to gather, when I asked if 
he had proof of the death of Radnor. He toyed around 
this bait ; he looked as if he suspected what it might 
hide, but after a little he struck out boldly for it, and 
feigned that this was the very thing he desired our inter- 
view upon. .It was not that, nor any one thing else. 
He feared I knew something, and wanted to know what, 
and he found out.” 

“ Not all, not all, though,” cried Harold, unclasping 
his fingers, rubbing together his hands, and stretching 
his mouth to show a set of sharp teeth ; and before he 
had drawn himself together again, he took out the big- 
headed pin and plunged anew into the cushion upon the 
floor by his side. . 


266 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“No,” continued Mr. Wallace, “not all, nor all that 
awaits him. I let him gather that I had traced Radnor 
and lost the scent. He said he had a scout out. I said 
yes, Barley by name. This startled and stunned worse 
than all. I had let him gather before, even more than 
when on leaving, I told him I had known Margaret Ray’s 
mother, upon which he seized the straw which was that 
I had witnessed her marriage — well, well, never mind 
that now — he asked me to call upon his client after gain- 
ing her consent.” 

“ And will you go V' 

“ Go, go ? certainly I shall go if need be. Now, I was 
about to take my departure, pleading an engagement with 
you,' you know, good Isaac, when he drew me back, ask- 
ing if I knew of another heir — distant to the Ray estate. 
I was surprised, and so disarmed him on that point, till 
he told me who it was ; and I warned him, and said the 
blind man could tell more of him.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! and so he can, so he can. And when does 
he go to see this great fish fuss and flounder ? to feel 
him, I mean. A blind man can’t see, can he. Great 
Heart V' 

“ That depends upon how blind he is,” returned Mr. 
Wallace. “ And now, what do you gather from what I 
tell you 

“ That he is making the gatherings for himself, and 
not for his client ; but if he can’t get them without, he 
will make a gathering of her too.” 

“ What do you mean, Isaac, what can you mean } I 
never thought of it that way,” and Mr. Wallace started 
so violently forward as Harold’s words made themselves 
clear, that he jostled his knees rudely. “ Beg your par- 
don,” he apologized, “ I never thought— but what makes 
you think so !” 

“ They tell me so,” replied the Little Man, with head 
bent as if listening. 

“ Ah, yes, yes ; I see it now. I knew he was leagued 
with Marplot to wrest from the heir the Ray estate, and 
could not see why he seemed overjoyed at the hope of 
placing it in the hands of Margaret Ray. I see, I see. 
Ah, I will help that. It is as good a way as I can punish 


TROUT AND BAIT. 


267 


him for his cunning. I care not, Isaac, to bring him be- 
fore a bar of justice, but Marplot I will; so help me 
heaven, I will,” and his clenched fist in its great muscular 
strength came down with such force upon the broad arm 
of his chair, that dearie, who had grown drowsy from 
the sweetmeats, and curled herself up for a nap, was jos- 
tled nearly off her perch, that the dog jumped up with 
a loud bark, but Harold moved not in surprise. He be- 
gan bobbing after the cushion which had lost its place 
and been slipped under the leather-covered chair, by the 
involuntary moving of one of the long pointed shoes. 
Having found it and the pin, he began a terrific charge 
with the latter, muttering, “ So and so, so and so,” at 
every word giving a fresh plunge up to the very head. 

And then the tea, I will have it ready ; I will pass it 
over the bar, and justice will say it is good for him when 
it burns and blisters. Yes, Great Heart, take him to the 
bar, and I will be there with the hot tea. Now, that 
don’t draw me up ; no, it is when I see no road to the 
bar that I draw up.” 

“Isaac,” began Mr. Wallace after several moments 
of deep thought when the surprise subsided, “ I see that 
Trout is for himself, that Marplot is for himself, and we 
must be for ourselves. There must be a gathering made 
of Radnor; if he is dead, we must prove it; if he is not, 
we must know it. Who will gather T' 

“ Whoever can do it best,” answered Harold quickly. , 
“Can Joe, I wonder? He has had little to do but 
watch for the visits of Trout, but he has done that well 
and without complaint at the stupidity of his task.” 

“ He is faithful, hoping for something more stirring ; 
and every time I go to Boggs & Co., after giving Hiram a 
word of comfort, I run up to see Joe. Good, good and 
honest ; but ain’t I more used to gathering?” 

“You go, Isaac? It would be a hard matter to let 
you do that. Who will keep the papers of state? Who 
will gather in your place ? Are there no lady’s maids 
yet to be seen ? Who will — ” 

“ Take care of dearie, too,” interrupted Isaac. 

“True, who will ? she would not stay at Jericho, and 
she could — no use, Isaac, I can’t spare you. But we 


208 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


will hear, before we decide, what Trout and the blind 
man say to each other. I will be here to-morrow night; 
it may be late, it may be early. Let me see before I go, 
the papers, Isaac, and then I must be looking towards 
Jericho, for to-night I go to the quay. I go every night, 
lest he might come to see Mr. Hamper, and I lose one 
word, one breath of self-accusation that will lead him 
where he can — ” 

“ Can drink,” interrupted Isaac, “ drink what I shall 
make. But, Great Heart, you know hoV safe the papers 
are. I have had them long years, and they are mine to 
guard and deliver when you call for them. So, if I must 
give them to you to look at, I will ; but they do set you 
aweary in heart, and that won’t do, now. You know 
what’s in them, and the fingering of them does you no 
good at this time. Wait till all is right, and then look.” 

“ Yes, yes, you are right, Isaac, they unnerve me, and 
the time will soon be to pounce, not in the dark, either. 
How long, long you and I have worked at this — and 
what shall I do when all is right.?” 

“ Too fast. Great Heart, too fast; all is not right yet, 
and you will be busy to make it so.” 

“True, true. I must hurry, it is darkening ; and from 
Jericho to the river is not a short step, let alone from here 
to Jericho. One question, Isaac. Mr. John Hansom has 
put the tracing of the heiress of Ivandale into the hands 
of the attorney Thump. Do you know it.?” 

“Ha! ha! ha! that’s good. John Hansom, where 
of.?” 

“ Address the blind man, or Isaac Harold, Blue Bottle 
Court.” 

“ Good again, that makes me straighten out.” One, 
•two, up, down, down, up, across and across the room, 
and then the pointed shoes are firmly again on the floor, 
while the round head encased in the silk cap is where it 
should be, four feet twenty from the floor. 

“ Here, sir, here ; up, up,” said Wallace, whistling and 
snapping his fingers. The dog jumped, barked, wagged 
and without even a glance at the cage of dearie, who was 
eyeing him lovingly, followed his master who was pre- 
ceded by Harold to unbolt, unbar, unlock, unlatch and 


GAFF HAS IDEAS. 


269 


open. This done, Mr. Wallace shook his host warmly 
by the hand ; the dog rubbed his nose on the black silk 
stockings, then bounded up and lapped the cheek. The 
door soon closed upon dog and master, who turned to 
Jericho. . 


CHAPTER XXlX. 

GAFF SHOWS HIMSELF POSSESSED OF IDEAS. 

If the air was clear, the sky cloudless, the stars 
twinkling gayly, and the moon shining calmly, so much 
the better could each ripple be seen, so much more 
looked the bank of water — thrown up by the swell of a 
crossing boat — as if it concealed a human form ; and as 
it moved on toward the shore, rising and falling, so surely 
it seemed as if upon its last breaking, the form would 
arise with a curse for him who watched it, not be washed 
up and borne away from his sight forever ; if the sky was 
so heavy and leaden that the stars and moon could find 
no opening, so much the more weird and awful rolled 
the bank toward him, so much the more awful the that 
that would arise from it ; if neither stars, moon, nor 
sky heavy and leaden could be seen, and the fog veiled 
them, veiled the swell, veiled the bank that came from 
the swell and bore its burden so unerringly always to 
him, then, still more to be dreaded was the uncertainty 
when it would reach him, but reach him it always would, 
and curse him it always did, not that the lips ever did as 
the lips of the mortal curse, but to him who could read 
in the outstretched finger, upon the parting lips only 
what he justly merited — a curse — how could it speak in 
other accents ? 

There, night after night, long before he had ever met 
Peleg Hamper, long before he had ever began to watch 
Snatcher peeping over the quay when the heave was 
great, peeping over for the coming of the captain and 
first mate ; long before he had been drawn to the morgue 


2/0 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


and made to look upon the fair young face that rested 
upon the cold heartless slab that received the outcast and 
the pure, the convicted and the innocent with the same 
immobility ; ever since he had returned from the long 
journeyit we have already referred to as prosecuted with 
will and without flinching, with money and without, till 
he had traced all gone who could claim Ivandale, but 
one, and her he had summoned through his honest and 
well-reputed adviser. to London ; ever since this, we say, 
he had been drawn by the cord night after night, to watch 
for the bank of water that came from the swell, and if 
there was no swell it came just the same, and the cord 
had held him till he would fain plunge in and end all. 
But whenever that moment came, we have seen that he 
was drawn back, that invisible hands bound up the cord, 
only to pay it out at greater length upon the next visit, 
and he was left to his own wicked will. 

Since he had spoken the few words with Peleg Ham- 
per upon the day when Miss Thump and Miss Hamper 
were playing the roles of Charitable Sisters, and upon 
their return from the house and shop of Mr. Gregory 
Layem, had come upon him, he had been drawn more 
strongly than ever to the moorings of Snatcher, and 
hoped chance might throw him upon her captain again ; 
but chance, or the cord, or luck, good or ill, or a foreor- 
dained result, or what you will, threw him upon her first 
mate. Gaff. 

“ Lookin’ fer suthin ? yer ’ead aint up 'nough fer 
^ straight-out work. D’ye mean ’arm ?” was the salutation 
he met with one night from that officer who had just 
parted with his captain, the latter hurrying to Wreckers 
Court with a load “ ’ooked up” and in from the wreck of 
a barge that had ventured up too far and found herself 
stranded at low tide and pulled off too suddenly as high 
tide joined with a still higher wind and blinding rain. 
Owing to the wind having the audacity to send the* rain 
at its own rate of speed into the eyes of the crew and 
the captain as they turned out one by one to meet the 
issue against them, it is not to be so much wondered 
that the barge yielded without long struggling, when it 
is known that larger, sturdier vessels farther down stream 


GAFF HAS IDEAS. 


271 


lost their moorings, plunged forward, rocked sidewise, and 
between these two erratic and highly uncertain move- 
ments, especially when the plunging was dictated by the 
wind, and the rocking by the disturbed waters, had either 
gone on toward the opening to the sea, or else like the 
barge acknowledged themselves beaten and let the wind 
dismast them, and the waters wash away their cargoes. 
And these cargoes, whether heaved over by the crew or 
swept over by the waves, must come to the surface again ; 
and for their coming days after greedy eyes were strained 
and hunger-thinned hands were stretched, hooks were 
improvised from old iron pokers tied to sticks ; and with 
these the children of those who were far out in boats, 
flat and well rounded, in scows and rafts watching and 
catching, pulled in what had escaped them or had arisen 
nearer shore. 

Some might have said it was because he held himself 
aloof from the Wreckers of the Court and the wreckers 
on the river, that Peleg Hamper turned Snatcher away 
from the flotsam, away from the jetsam of the down 
stream, and would not be found earning his bread in com- 
mon with them. Some might h^ve said it was selfishness 
that sent him up stream, as he knew of the barge whose 
cargo would be rising likewise, and might be met on its 
way down the river or watched for on its way up to the 
surface. Be it either way the watchers and fishers he 
left behind were the richer, for Snatcher was quick in her 
turnings after the floating somethings, and the hook was 
unerring in its aim. 

So, it was after this cruise which had brought Snatcher 
heavily laden to shore for the third time that day and 
evening, that Marplot “ fell” upon the first mate, who* 
ceased unloading from the boat his part of the booty to 
be carried to the court, when he saw the skulking, down- 
looking figure draw near. 

“ Yes, I am looking for something, but it was lost too 
long ago to get it back,” replied Marplot answering Gaff’s 
first question ; and being in doubt as to the honest re- 
turn to the last, for whether he meant harm or not would 
depend upon what advantage it would be to him to do 
it. Turning to good account the wiping away of the 


2J2 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


glands’ secretions, for Gaff mistook it for the drying or 
attempted drying of tears, and speaking in a whining, 
wheedling tone — indeed, of late, he could not talk long in 
any other — he at once struck the first mate of Snatcher as 
a mourner for one who had been “ ’ooked up” already, or 
else was waiting quietly in the bed or restlessly above the 
bed of the river for that process of being brought to the 
recognition of friends or the gaze of the curious. If the 
lost had been found, Gaff could not see for what he was 
still looking ; if not found, here might be a reward, so an- 
other reason, good and sufficient, he saw at once, for let- 
ting the booty yet unladen remain in the boat, and that 
already on shore, rest safely from marauders, beneath his 
ample and firmly set boot. 

“ War it lost up or down } — from the barge up, or the 
three-mast down, I means. We alius ’ooks up the be- 
longin’s first, ye see,” and he pointed to what he stood 
upon, and what Snatcher still kept. 

Marplot, so intent upon his own suspicious thoughts, 
that he heard only the words, “ the belongin’s first,” said, 
“ Then if these come up first, you can’t always tell 
which — I mean the bodies that come up afterwards — 
they come from — ” 

“ An’, mister, what ’ud we care .? ’Ere’s a ’at we 
pulled in last ’aul ; an’ think ye when we find un to ’ook 
in, when we gets it ’ere tied near Snatcher, an’ awaitin’ 
fer un who looks at ’em, an’ looks at a book, and says, 
‘Turn it over,’ which sometimes the water does fer ’im 
an’ saves us the bother, an’ looks again at the book, an’ 
then looks at the dead-’us cart and says, ‘ Drive up close 
an’ take it.’ D’ ye thinks while ’e’s doin’ all this, lookin’ 
an’ lookin’ an’ a makin’ up o’ ’is mind, that war made up 
afore ’e seed it, d’ ye think we tries cloze on to’ em, to see 
if ’at an’ coat fits ’em } Haw, haw, yer green, mister, in 
the business. No, we takes the belongin’s an’ we gives 
up the ’ooked up. We’ve got some belongin’s to-day, to 
them who’ll come up after a bit, but most on’ em are from 
the barge, an’ we’ll ’ave ’er bimeby if we keep a sharp 
lookout, but there’ll be many a un doin’ the same.” 

Gaff had never made a speech so long and uninter- 
rupted in his whole life, perhaps because he had always 


GAFF HAS IDEAS. 


2/3 


been with those who thought they knew more than he did 
on all subjects, perhaps because nobody ever thought he 
had an opinion or an idea on anything particular, or 
everything in general, and perhaps because he never es- 
sayed to say much, or enough to give himself any stand- 
ing as a person possessed of an idea or an opinion. He 
had most abruptly shut down on any attempt of imagi- 
nation to again assert herself within his mind, when years 
before he had, at Meg’s suggestion, dilated and drawn up 
his nostrils for the imaginary sniff of Mother Martha’s 
soup, for he left the sniff unfinished to this day, because 
the soup was still more imaginary than the sniff. So, it 
could not have been a fancy that led him to the belief 
that the inspector always made up his mind prior to his 
inspection; it must have been arrived, at from analogous 
reasoning. However, that is not pertinent to our story ; 
it was only suggested by a query as to the road he had 
mentally taken to hold this opinion, and it also shows 
that Gaff saw and noticed what he did not always speak 
of. 

“ Have you got many belongings ?” asked Marplot, 
little heeding the traces of recent wreckage. “ Don’t you 
know that they might be prized — ” a wipe of what Gaff 
counted tears, “ by the — by those — ” a whine that an- 
swered in the ears of the same for a long drawn moan. 

“That feels sorry they be gone,” added Gaff to the 
sentence for whose completion he waited a reasonable, 
and it seemed to him a respectful time after the moan. 

This brought the handkerchief from the face, cut 
short another whine begun on a lower key, and drew up 
the look-down head which turned toward the water, as if 
it heard there a re-echo of the words of Snatcher’s first 
mate,. “ Feels sorry they be gone.” But it must have 
been a delusion, for the cord had been laid away, looped 
up tightly, and the waters rolled up no bank when that 
did not hold him over them : they were busy now, bearing 
up and on the traces of their power when their help- 
meet, the wind, chose to mingle with them. 

So, finding nothing to dread from without, he again 
buried the face in the handkerchief, and shook with 
grief. Gaff supposed — and why should he think it caused 


/ 


2/4 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


by anything else ? And feeling touched at such sorrow, 
he sat down upon the “ belongin’s ” of the barge, and 
touched Marplot upon the shoulder, motioning him to do 
the same. 

“ War it a cap’n, a mate, or un on deck ? Mebbe it’s 
un that’ll bring its own belongin’s. Sometimes they does 
it that way, keeps ’old on ’em, ye know. An’ sometimes 
it looks as if the belongin’s ’eld on too, to show who it 
war they war a bringin’ up.” 

Marplot shuddered. He had not thought to take 
a mourner’s part in an interview of this kind — -it would 
have been impossible to so play upon Peleg, but with 
Gaff it was easy enough ; so he concluded to increase the 
long drawn moans,' bury his face as often as it was con- 
sistent with grief* and the needs of removing what the 
glands sent forth, thus working upon the feelings of the 
first mate till he should be fortunate enough, perhaps, to 
find out what he wanted and yet dreaded to know. 

“It is nobody just lost,” he moaned and moaned, 
rocking himself back and forth upon the end of a spar 
that had been caught on the way down, a relic of the two- 
mast, and as it rested upon its middle could assist in the 
swaying of the body, and so afforded a most appropriate 
seat for a mourner — it may be that Gaff had the facility of 
the spar in view when he motioned Marplot to it. “ That 
is what makes it hard to bear, that hope is gone.” 

“ Then it warn’t the barge, it warn’t the two-mast — 
but what war it that sent ’em to the down below } We 
ain’t ’ooked ilp any o’ late that ’ud do to sail with ye,” 
and Gaff gazed closely upon the crouching form that 
tilted upon the spar at the least motion. 

“ It isn’t of late, and it was nobody like me, it was one 
I knew in better days. If I could find a trace, a trace,” 
the grief now so shook him, causing the spar to bob up 
and down at such a jerky speed, that at each convulsion 
afresh it threatened to send him where a “ ’ook up” would 
be necessary upon his own account. Gaff had witnessed 
but few of the interviews between his father and those 
seeking information, or leaving descriptions of the proba- 
bly lost, and possibly drowned. The excitement of look- 
ing down into, and ’ooking up from the muddy waters, 


GAFF FAS IDEAS. 


275 

the shpe of the reward, if earned, which “ dad” always 
gave him, and his interest was at an end. How friends 
conducted themselves was of no moment to him, so of 
course this heart-broken creature lent a new look to the 
business for Gaff, especially as there was no one to take 
the case from his hands ; he was sole referee, and rather 
liked to feel that he might hold the happiness or the still 
deeper woe of this mourner in his keeping, and besides, 
there might be a few shillings ahead, he could not hope 
for pounds when the close gazing showed the coat of bad 
fit, faded color, and bare threads, the hat rubbed every 
way but the smooth way, and so often had it been sub- 
jected to these various ways that it was doubtful if it 
could ever be again, under the most favorable conditions 
— dampness and the presser’s iron — brought to know the 
direction its nap first took, and for this scrutiny. Gaff 
had not trusted to the light of the stars ; he had held 
up a lantern so wicked that its rays shot down and not 
sideways, and as he was tall and was also standing when 
he took observations, the rays struck where the lantern 
aimed. 

“ It might be as I could remember ’em as ’as been 
’ooked up fur a bit back. War it old, or war it young.? 
War it gaiters or boots,? That’s the way I calls ’em up 
sometimes, and then by the fit,” here he looked down 
at his feet which were covered by boots, no doubt made 
for a higher instep and narrower ball, for a slit upon the 
top relieved the pressure at the former, while one on 
each side of the main joints, gave ease to surplus flesh. 
“ Now, the un as had these war ‘boots ; ’ they ’ud fit a 
nine, but I’m ’leven fer boots an’ a twelve fer gaiters, so 
I calls this un a ‘ nine boots.’ I’ve got under lock at the 
court yander, a mate o’ gaiters, seven, small, very small 
that, but ’e war a thin chap. I remember ’im well, an I 
calls ’im, ye see, ‘ seven gaiters.’ So if ye can tell whether 
the un ye wants ’ad boots or gaiters, an’ what they ’ud 
fit, I might tell if it ’ad belongin’s.” 

“ But it couldn’t wear boots and it never wore gait- 
ers,” came from the depths of the handkerchief, for 
the mourner dare not look up lest he might see stepping 
from the water-bank what it wore, so he bowed again 


276 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


with the down tilt of the spar end, and came up again 
with its rise. 

“ It couldn’t.?” and Gaff took off his hat, scratched in 
his matted locks for the reason why “ ’ooked up ” could 
be found so delinquent in this matter, having previously 
rendered themselves liable to choose whether it should 
be boots or gaiters. But this reason was not forthcom- 
ing, so having slid the tin door before the bull’s-eye, he 
deposited the lantern under a bit of plank, and himself 
upon the other end of the spar on which the mourner 
tilted. This caused the latter to forego the end seat and 
step around to the side, and as they were not in point of 
avoirdupois much at variance, the spar ceased its bob- 
bing and the grief-stricken w^as placed under greater ex- 
ertion to sway. 

“ I thought I ’ud ease a bit fer ye,” Gaff said, as if in 
apology for the liberty he had taken. 

Marplot did not feel the ease rendered so much, or 
with such relish, doubtless, as did the spar, but he saw 
no time must be wasted, for much more had already 
elapsed since it was necessary for the proper securing of 
Snatcher, and the bearing of the barge’s belongings to 
Wreckers Court ; so that Peleg, ever on the alert from 
the life he led for something new and strange to come to 
light, might return to ascertain what had occurred to keep 
Gaff so long behind him. So he hid his face again in 
the handkerchief and mourned for a shorter period this 
time, and swayed but twice, yet still concealed his eyes 
and so much of his mouth as was not absolutely neces- 
sary to the sending forth of the “ young woman ; ’’ and 
the convulsions of grief followed one another rapidly, for 
he heard, or thought he heard, footsteps, distant as yet 
to be sure, but firm, decided and not daintily picked, 
which were signs that might be made without difficulty 
to indicate that Mr. Hamper was about to put his worst 
fear into reality, so the sooner and stronger Gaff could 
be touched the better. 

“ Now, don’t ye feel so bad, mister, if it ain’t a. ‘boots’ 
or a ‘ gaiters’ yer lookin’ fer. I ken easy tell the rest o’ 
the ’ooked up. I calls ’em ribbins or strings. Ye see, 
the nice uns — we doesn’t often find ’em though — ’ll ’ave a 


GAFF HAS IDEAS. 


277 


'bunch o’ ribbins on the toe or som’ers, an’ the poor uns 
’ll be glad o’ a string — tow, or leather, or a rag mebbe — 
anything to keep the shoes on, an’ I doesn’t see why 
they wants to do that — keep ’em on, I means — fer the feet 
gits wet any way, an’ if they’d jest leave ’em on shore it 
’ud save a deal o’ dryin’ an’ greasin’. Now, ther’ war un 
sometime back — an’ a clean purty un she war — she wore, 
slippers, the only un since Meg war found along shore. 
Ye knows, Meg, doesn’t ye, sir.? everybody knows Meg.” 

“ Meg who .?” 

It vaguely occurred then to Gaff, strongly upon after 
consideration, although the latter he did not enter upon 
till it had been proposed to him by another person, that 
the convulsions ceased too suddenly for such paroxysms 
of real, true grief, that the face that emerged from the 
handkerchief did not look drawn with mental anguish, 
that the eyes were small, but not half-closed with weep- 
ing, that both the face and the eyes showed an eager in- 
terest in the “ Meg who ?” and the voice which uttered 
it quivered with a mixture of surprise and fear. 

“Meg Hamper; who did ye s’pose, mister.? Ye 
needn’t ask any more — she’s too good to tell about.” 

“ Is she your sister .?” The sigh of relief at the “ Ham- 
per,” which followed the “ Meg,” was great, yet suspicion 
lurked in the mouth, and about the manner of everybody 
who spoke to, and everybody who came near Marplot ; so 
he was impelled to follow this string whose knotted end 
had suddenly and unexpectedly presented itself. 

“ No, an’ I ain’t agoin’ to tell ye anything* more,” and 
seeing that Gaff was disposed to be sullen if he followed 
beyond the knot, he turned it to the best advantage. 

“ You see,” he began again, whining and wiping 
his eyes, but scenting danger from the far-off footsteps, 
thought it better not to sink his face in the handker- 
chief, “ you see I am so in hopes she is not lost — that 
she was rescued, if the papers — ” 

“ We never rescues,” interrupted Gaff, changing his 
seat to one opposite, where he could have a better view 
of his visitor. “ We finds, we ’ooks, an’ we keeps belong- 
in’s. We’d rescue if we could, but someways Snatcher 
never .’eads fer ’em till they’ve been down too long fer 


278 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


that, an’ to tell ye, mister, ’ow I feels about it, thar ain’t 
many on ’em as it ’ud pay to do that with. A ’00k up 
is better than a rescue. Ye ties ’em up by Snatcher, 
an’ ye knows thar be so much awaitin’ ye from the dead- 
’us people if thar ain’t a reward ; but a rescue ain’t 
sure — it might promise all it ’ad, to git out, an’ when 
it war out, take to its legs an’ run — they beent the best 
kind, them rescues, mister; give me the ’ook-ups an’ I 
ken make a livin’. But thar war un, the nice, clean un, 
‘slippers, ribbin slippers,’ I calls ’er, as I ’ud been glad 
to rescue. Ye spoke o’ papers, mebbe she be the un ye 
look fer. She ’ad ’em, papers, an’ I got ’em ; yes, but 
nobody knows it, mister ; I thought I’d keep ’em.” 

“ Oh ! oh !” moaned the mourner, suddenly lost again 
in the handkerchief ; and as the other spar-end had lost 
its weight, there began the alternate swaying of body 
and bobbing of the seat which he held more comfort- 
ably at the side than at the extremity. “ Oh ! oh ! I be- 
lieve it’s what I am looking for. Do tell me, do tell 
me, quick ; oh ! oh !” 

“ If ye feels so bad, mister, ’ow is it ye cares more 
fer the belongin’s than the ’ooked up.?” Gaff’s wits 
seemed suddenly to sharpen themselves, or to be sharp- 
ened. 

“ She is gone ! she is gone !” came from the depths 
of the handkerchief, “ but these would be of value to the 
living.” 

“ ’Ow, piister .?” 

“ They would give property — pounds, shillings, to 
those they belonged to.” Here the face was raised 
pretty clear of its covering. 

“Ye needn’t take the trouble to make it clear what 
property be, mister. I knows it be pounds ; but many .?” 

“Yes, yes, a great many; oh ! oh !” Down went the 
spar-end by mistake, so the mourner, when he found 
it and himself upon it going too, swayed and mourned 
“oh ! oh!” 

“ ’Ow many on ’em could I git .?” Gaff blurted out 
with his elbows on his knees, his head on his hands, and 
his eyes bent searchingly on as much of the face as he 
could see. 


GAFF HAS IDEAS. 


279 


“ Twenty, twenty !" exclaimed Marplot, seeing Gaff’s 
game, and showing his face in full af the same instant. 

“ That won’t fetch ’em, mister.” 

“ But that is more than you would earn in a long 
time,” began Marplot in a business-like manner. 

‘‘ An’ that’s what I wants,” returned Gaff in the same, 
and with as much determination of driving a good bar- 
gain. 

“Thirty, then.^” 

“ No, mister, it beent what I wants.” 

The footsteps were intermittent — a few, and then 
silence. So matters must be precipitated, and he said, 

“ Fifty, that’s a big sum.” 

“ Mebbe,” came from Gaff in an indifferent way, 
“ but I thinks I ken git more fer ’em.” 

“ Who how } where ?” came so thickly from Mar- 
plot, upon each other, that Gaff saw he had unintention- 
ally hit a sore place, and also saw that it would be best 
to follow up this purely imaginary source of income as 
if it were authorized ; and began pushing together the 
wood and other belongings of the barge. 

Thus, between the suspicion that somebody else was 
on the alert for them, and the cessation again of the foot- 
steps, Marplot said, without on the instant realizing the 
amount of his offer, “ Hundred pounds V' 

“ That’s like,” returned the first mate, dropping the 
wood and sitting down again ; “ that’s a bit above t’other 
’ll give,” he added, inwardly chuckling over this bit of 
strategy, and beginning to think what he would do with 
the fortune. 

As the steps were nearing, Marplot could not afford 
to ask “ who T' again, so he said, “ Let me have them.” 

Gaff looked at him by the starlight, and looked at 
him by the light through the bull’s-eye with the tin door 
slid off, and then “haw, hawed.” 

Lest this might be a trap to catch him and a signal 
for the springing of the trap, and not seeing anything in 
his request to cause this outburst. Marplot looked about 
with fear. 

When Gaff had so far overcome whatever he saw that 
was ludicrous as to be able to speak, he said. 


28 o 


THUMP^S CLIENT, 


“ Lemme 'ave ’em too, mister.” 

What ?” 

“’Undred poun’s.” 

“ I have not got them with me, to-night — this is un- 
expected.” 

“ I ain’t neither, but ye jest fetch ’em, an’ see what I 
ken fetch too.” 

■“When?” 

“ In the day. ’Tain’t often I’m left alon^ like this 
o’ a night.” 

“ I can’t come in the day.” 

“ Ye can’t ?” And Gaff looked down at the nine boot 
and the eleven foot very thoughtfully, till from out the 
boot, from out the foot, or from out the matted locks, a 
long lank way above the boot and the foot, came an idea 
to which he at once gave freedom in “ Send some un an’ 
I’ll take ’em up in Snatcher — up stream, I means.” 

“ What day ?” 

“ Who might ye send !” asked Gaff, as if a reply to 
his question was necessary for a proper answering of 
Marplot’s. 

“ A young man.” 

“Tell ’em to go by the end o’ Wreckers every day 
when the tide’s full, for a week, an’ if I beent noways 
busy an’ ken paddle up with ’im. I’ll be on the steps o’ 
No. 2 o’ the court. An’ the poun’s ?” 

“ He will bring them. And now I must go. You are 
a good fellow,” and Marplot arose determined to get 
away as fast as possible. 

“Jist look ’ere, mister, afore ye goes; I thinks ye 
forgot suthin’.” 

“ What ?” asked Marplot, looking around to see if he 
had dropped some article by which he might be iden- 
tified. 

“Ye forgot to find out ’bout the un ye felt so bad fer. 
’Ow d’ye know ’er belongin’s be the belongin’s ye seek ?” 

“ Oh, I am satisfied,” returned Marplot, beginning to 
move off to the right. 

“ ’An ye forgot suthin’ else, mister.” Gaff saw his 
hupy, and saw also, though still vaguely, why his strange 
visitor had tried, and would still try to dupe him,. so he 


'BELONGIN' S IS KEEPINS." 


281 


felt at liberty to show him that he saw it. Marplot 
turned again and looked the query “What.?” 

“ Why,” sneered Gaff, “ to cry a bit more afore ye 
goes.” 

It was a sting that twinged as Marplot moved off this 
time to the left, and had not gone many steps when Gaff 
called after him for the third time, “ Pull to, pull to, mis- 
ter.” He halted for the third time also, and impatiently 
waited for the first mate to “ pull up to him,” which he 
did in long ungainly strides, and dropped anchor, when 
at what by those of medium height would be considered 
far from speaking distance — at least, so far as the place 
of the feet were concerned, but Gaff knew the latter did 
not need to be nearer than they were, he leaned over, so 
long and so elastic was his body, and reached Marplot’s 
ear with, “ Dad’s got suthin’ o’ ’em ye might like. A 
big fat ring. If ye comes agin when ’e’s ’ere, I doesn’t 
know ye, mister, an’ ye doesn’t know me.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“belongin’s is keepin’s to them as finds.” 

Marplot kept on his zigzag course as rapidly as 
consistent with the not straightforward and the stealthy. 
He looked furtively around for the maker of the foot- 
steps, but nobody was near who could have knowledge 
of them, and muttered to himself, at the same time 
finding much moisture to be absorbed by the handker- 
chief, so we may not catch every word of the soliloquy. 
“ Fancy again, fan — ” a wipe across the face in the region 
of the mouth — “ lucky though. Hundred pounds ! Bah ! 
five as good to him. 

“ Sharper than he !” The thought of the ?'dle he had 
taken, and that Gaff had penetrated it, gave a fresh 
impetus to the glands ; so we will imagine that Mar- 
plot concluded that Gaff was sharper than he looked, 
and feared that he might be too sharp for him before the 


282 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


game was terminated. After this inference we will lis- 
ten again, although it takes much dodging of posts and 
tree-boxes and a course which describes pointed scal- 
lops. “ Barley’s gone — luck ! luck ! Now it — ” a wipe, 
“ three for luck. Ring — fat ring — the — third. Hamph 
— sharper — Gaff. If fan — still — well manage him. Curse 
fan—” 

The dashes do not, we hope, represent to the mind of 
the reader wipes. Lest he might be so misled, let us state 
that they stand for words and parts of words, lost as the 
speaker of them was lost now and then to the ear of the 
writer, who, being more straightforward upon foot, if 
not in any other way, found himself upon the right, 
with head bent down, when he should have been moving 
to the left, and in the same embarrassing position upon 
the left when he should have struck off at an acute, very 
acute angle, and thus made with Marplot the point of 
another scallop. So, as we find it not highly satisfactory, 
following, and still more so what we catch, or rather, 
what we lose between the wipes and the scallops, we will 
let him continue alone his way to Poorly’s Resort, only 
adding that the next night, and the next, and every night,- 
until the one cold one soon after, did he find himself 
drawn to the river, held over and pulled back, and 
either before the cord was unlooped for its work, or after 
it was looped and laid away, he sauntered to Snatcher’s 
place of mooring, and as we said sometimes found her 
and sometimes not, but never saw her captain. 

Did her captain see him ? Let us go back to Gaff, 
who had picked up the wick in the lantern, rubbed up 
the bull’s-eye with his coat sleeve, and thus had a more 
satisfactory view of the what was left in Snatcher, espe- 
cially when he pulled the spar-end near the margin of the 
quay, and placed the lantern upon the mourner’s seat, 
which was now well up in the air ; and its present occu- 
pant not being heavy, it did not tilt up and then over, 
over and then up, according to what the burden was. 
And, one bit after another. Gaff piled the cargo of 
Snatcher upon shore, threw the paddles after it, swung 
himself after the paddles and into the presence of Peleg 
upon one side, and a dog with his master upon the other. 


'BELONGINGS IS KEEPINSS 


283 


“ Ye war long, Gaff, in ’eaving the cargo off Snatcher,” 
remarked “ dad,” with a knowing look at his son, upon 
whom the rays through the bull’s-eye fell so directly 
that there was no escaping them till some of the barge’s 
belongings had been removed. 

“Yes,” returned the first mate, without, it might be, 
quite as much deference of manner as such an officer 
should show to his superior, “ I anchored a bit my- 
self ; the tide war a bringin’ Snatcher up nearer at every 
’eave, so I let ’er swing.” 

“ An’ ain’t ye ’ad anyun to watch the ’eave with ye ? 
I thought I ’eard talk ’ereabouts, an’ some un a pullin’ 
off, as if it war agin tide an’ wind.” 

“Thar be some o’ the Wreckers back from the two- 
mast down stream, an’ mebbe ye ’eard ’em. I did,” and 
Gaff’s head was bent to avoid “ dad’s ” gaze, while his 
hands were busy prying up a broken plank, pulling out 
a bit of sail or extricating from the rubbish as carefully 
as was allowable, for the better price from the junk 
shop, an iron hoop that from diameter and quality told 
of a bailing bucket beaten out stave by stave till naught 
but its embracers were left. 

“Now, Gaff, ye promised, an’ I likes to see ye keep 
in deep water. Ye doesn’t lie about it an’ say that thar 
war no un ’ere, an’ I likes that, too, but I knows thar 
war some un, an’ this dog knows it, and ’is master knows 
it.” 

Thus brought suddenly to an understanding that 
he had been watched, and no doubt overheard, too, 
every word Gaff made answer, as if the bargain had 
been lawful, and in nowise to be looked at as calling for 
any but the most hearty congratulations from his father, 
both for shrewdness of the bargain and future good for- 
tune, “ Ye knows it, the dog knows it, an’ ’is master 
knows it. I knows it, an’ the man as feels bad knows it, 
an’ when I gits it we’ll all know suthin’ else.” 

“ An’ what might that be, Gaff?” asked Mr. Hamper, 
inwardly pleased at a keenness which he felt sure he 
detected beneath the exterior of this apparently aimless 
speech. 

“ That I’ve got it,” he returned, without slacking in 


284 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


the assorting of iron here, firewood there, cook’s uten- 
sils broken, bent, and leaky on this side, crew’s garments, 
torn, patched, and water-soaked on’ that side. 

“ Ye thinks ’e’ll run foul ?” again questioned “ dad,” 
with the inward pleasure coming forth as outward admi- 
ration for this trace of the least discerning power on the 
part of his son. 

“ ’E’s run foul a’ready,” returned Gaff. 

“ Now, make a clean deck o’ this. Gaff ; a clean un. 
Did ye know the man afore V' 

“ No, an’ doesn’t know ’im now.” 

“But ye knows suthin’, first mate, or ye would look 
up and make a clean breast of it; as I tells ye.” 

“ No,” came from Gaff, laconically ; “ no cap’n, ’e’s 
the un as knows the suthin,’” tain’t me.” 

“ What might it be V' 

“ It might be good, it might be bad — more like from 
the cry it be bad ; whatsumever it might be, I’m steerin’ 
so that it might be I could tell ’is colors an’ ’is sail.” 

“ But the papers. Gaff, the papers, what made ye keep 
’em and never say ye had ’em ? Doesn’t ye know they 
might o’ sailed that sweet un into the clear waters she 
’ailed from ?” 

“ Forgot ’em,” returned Gaff, with a curtness to be 
sure, but an honesty that brought conviction, truth with 
it. “ Couldn’t read ’em.” 

“And whar did ye find ’em.? We looked ’er well 
over before we shoved ’er out o’ Snatcher to be towed.” 

“ Mebbe we did, but I slipped on ’em the time ye an’ 
Meg ’ad gone to the dead-’us — slipped on ’em, an’ so’s 
not to slip on ’em agin, put ’em in ’ere,” and he laid his 
hand on his shaggy coat, that was the reverse of the 
boots for size ; while they were nifies covering eleven., 
the coat, if the numbers of the tailor and the boot-maker 
run parallel, was evidently an eleven covering a nine ; 
this gave him freedom of muscle that was not absolutely 
essential from the boots. The part of this garment upon 
which the hand came down with no* gentleness, was the 
part, no doubt, which covered an inner pocket, for he 
soon after slipped off of the great horn buttons — no two 
of which matched — the other half of the coat, and dived 


"BELONGIN'S IS KEEPIN'SE 285 

into the region of this presumable pocket, for he soon 
drew forth a small package of letters, apparently, neatly 
folded, neatly tied, originally, but the water had broken 
the papers at their foldings, and the friction after drying, 
that they had met with in this ample and miscellaneous 
depository of Gaff’s, had fringed these breaks. He held 
them under the glare from the bull’s-eye ; they were stiff, 
and crackled faintly as he touched them. 

Peleg drew near, the dog drew near, the master- drew 
nearer ; the first nodded to the last, and looked pleased ; 
the second sat down when he approached to what he 
deemed a proper distance, also looked pleased, and 
instead of nodding, beat a merry tune with his tail upon 
a large splinter that had, upon Gaff’s further* unloading, 
been knocked from the spar. The last bent over them 
and over Gaff, while his whole frame shook as he could, 
or thought he could, discern upon the outside one in a 
manly hand. 

Miss Maria Ray, 

We h 

Upon closer inspection, by the lantern’s light — for he 
caught them from Gaff’s hand, in his anxiety to lay hands 
upon them — the name he saw as we have given it, the 
place also, for the missing letters were easily supplied. 

“ Ha !” came from the dog’s master in a hiss between . 
his teeth. “ Ha ! how many times I have followed him 
like this, and there must be a last chance — chance never 
did this, and chance never does anything for me, vet I 
always happen on his track at the right moment, kittle 
wonder that he would give a hundred pounds for these, 
and I — I would give a thousand, ten thousand, rather 
than not have them. A good clutch I’ve got. How 
Harold would put the tea on to simmer if he knew of 
this, and the pin in the cushion deep, deep it would 
sink beyond its head ; and the blind man, he would al- 
most see at the touch of these. Ah, ah ! and she, she! 
is not her rest more peaceful ? But not so peaceful as it 
will be. And John Hansom, what would he say ? I 
must let them all know, all know.” He sti]l held them 
as if they were his own. 


286 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Gaff, seeing that he made no motion as if to deliver 
them, said, without betraying the least solicitude as to 
possessing them again, and yet his words were signifi- 
cant : “ Belongin’s is keepin’s to them as finds.” 

“Yes, but you would not want to keep these, my 
friend, when you know that by doing that you are 
wronging somebody, and keeping back property from 
those who ought to have it,” said Mr. Wallace, for he 
was the dog’s master, most earnestly and impulsively 
looking Gaff full in the eye. 

“ That’s what t’other un said,” returned Gaff, not half 
liking the seizure, “ an’ 'e felt bad, an’ ye doesn’t, mister. 
’Ow ken I tell which be right fer ’em ?” 

“But if .you thought it right for him to take them, 
why did you not give them to him V' 

“ The ’undred poun’, ye knows.” 

“ Do you mean to sell only to the one who gives 
most, or the one who takes them in the name of jus- 
tice ?” 

“ Is that another un as wants ’em ?” asked the first 
mate, with interest awakened anew. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Wallace, “and will give you 
twenty pounds more than the other, with a good pros- 
pect of more in the future.” 

“ Then ’e ken ’ave em ; whar be ’e, mister ?” 

“ I will answer for him, and give you a paper, and 
you can draw your money whenever you please.” " 

“Ye doesn’t mean it, mister?” exclaimed Gaff, with 
dilated eyes, open mouth, and distended nostrils. “ Yer 
the crtift as makes a clean cut through the water. An’ 
the un as feels bad, what’ll I tell ’im ?” 

“ Leave that to me. I shall be down here every 
night to watch for him ; for he will come : he can’t stay 
away. Hold down the lantern. Gaff, and I will fill out 
this — ” and he drew from his pocket a leathern book, 
from this he took a paper, from another a pen, and from 
another a safety-stand filled with ink. The lantern was 
held so nervously by Gaff, that Peleg’s steady hand took 
it ; the flame glowed brightly, the picked wick seemed to 
do its best, the' rubbed-off bull’s-eye was still undimmed, 
the rays shot through it gladly, some of them rested upon 


‘BELONGINGS IS KEEPINSE 


287 


the rapidly filled cheque, which was laid on a smooth 
part of the spar, some of them fell upon the nearly ob- 
literated “ Miss Maria Ray,” and from that they turned 
and struck the eye of the holder of the source whence 
they came : he bent over the name, and bent, too, the 
rays in the same direction, by putting the lantern so 
close that he threw the cheque too much in the dark for 
even the keen vision of Mr. Wallace, who, finding the 
lines suddenly lose distinctness, and the words fast dis- 
appearing, looked to see the cause, and just then, Mr. 
Hamper, with fingers on the M, which he had been trac- 
ing, asked with a tremor in his voice, “ Mister, ye be well 
up in letters; ken ye tells me that.?” 

“ That first one ?” asked Mr. Wallace, with a tremor, 
too ; but that is scarcely to be wondered at when we 
think of the papers he was about to possess. 

‘‘Yes, the un as makes the clean cuts an' the sharp 
turns. Meg knows ’em : she be well up in figgers an’ 
manners, too, an’ I ken say ’em all to ’er ; but they does 
pester me when I ain’t jest with ’er, an’ more’n ever 
when they ’eave in sight so sudden like.” 

“ That is an M,” and the pair of gray eyes watched 
keenly for the next question or voluntary remark. 

“ Yes, yes, I thought §0, it looks like it ; but they do 
say readin’ an’ riten’ ain’t the same ways ’eaded; but 
that’s it, that’s it.” 

“ Some persons write letters as you see them in read- 
ing,” replied Mr. Wallace in Hamper’s own terms, know- 
ing these would better suit his comprehensive powers. 

“An’ it be the way to do, too, then folks. might git 
well up an’ not git so pestered. But what might M be 
’ailed fer, mister .?” 

“ I do not think I quite see what you mean, Mr. 
Hamper.” It may be if he had chosen he might have 
caught the significance of the captain’s words, but he 
saw there was a something to come to the surface and he 
preferred that it should come without his aid, for he had 
found silence, or at least a suppression, the better part 
always for his purpose; and this had been his advice to 
the blind man, who, by following it had gained from 
Susan Thump, the day they visited the morgue, her own- 


288 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


history and that of Samuel, and he had also by an appar- 
ent indifference, gained the interest of the wily Trout. 

“ An’ I doesn’t much wonder, mister. Ye see I war 
a salt afore I war a fresh, an’ so I runs the current afoul 
sometimes ; but ye knows some craft be ’ailed as three- 
mast an’ some two-mast, a sloop, a schooner they might 
be, but suthin’ tells me that un beent neither.” 

“ The name, my friend, the name ? is that what you 
mean ?” 

“ An’ that be jest it. I feels queer like to-night, as if 
I didn’t paddle an’ I didn’t sail, but that I war on a 
smooth voyage. Now what might that be the name on } 
Anything but that un !” and he pointed to the name that 
began the address upon the outside letter. 

‘‘ Yes,” returned Mr. Wallace, using much effort to 
conceal his feelings — “ yes, it might be for Mercy, it — ” 

“That beent the craft,” interrupted Peleg, shaking 
his head, which was bowed slightly, as if half in thought 
and half in the desire to catch at once every name that 
might be given. “No, mister, thar war no ‘ Mercy ’ 
about it, that war clear to my eye long ago, when we 
began our voyage with ’er in the cabin,” and he nodded 
his head and threw his thumh^in the direction of his 
home. 

It took more than an effort now, it took a hard pres- 
sure of the will to conceal the feelings as Mr. Wallace 
went on with “ the craft,” not noticing the voyage or the 
voyager alluded to. 

“ It might be for Matilda or — ” 

“ No, no, mister, that be no craft as sails in our 
waters.” 

“ It is not an uncommon name,” was the reply. 

“ It be fer these parts. Now, come right to port, an’ 
look well about ye. I knows it when ye tells its build. 
’Tain’t Marthy — ye see I’ll ’elp ye along. My sister be 
Marthy, an’ if ye can’t ketch sight on it, I ken ask ’er an’ 
tell ye some ways bimeby. ’Tain’t worth the fret, meb- 
be, now.” 

“ Was it Mary ?” 

“No, it be more masted ’n that, an’ it be sumut like 
it in build ; try agin, mister.” 


‘BELONGIN’S IS KEEPIN’SE 


289 


“Was it — was it — ” the voice quivered, the tongue 
hesitated, the heart almost ceased its beat — “was it Mar- 
garet?” slowly came forth. 

“Now yer struck it with yer prow, mister ; that war 
it. Well, I can’t tell it now, but I must soon, as suthin’ 
in ’ere keeps a sayin’, ‘ Boat ahoy ! ahoy ! ahoy ! ’ail the 
cap’n,’ Mr. Wallace, fer whensomever I thinks on ye or 
sees ye, I ’ears the shout, ahoy ! ahoy ! An’ when I sees 
the un as war ’ere to-night, the waters frets an’ the cur- 
rents run into one another, an’ the shout sinks. So, ’e 
beent the un to ’ail. I see ye be agoin to ask me suthin’. 
No, mister, no. It’ll come soon when I does show ’er 
build ; I knows it, but I can’t do it now. I must fight 
with Peleg Hamper ; I must put ’im in irons, I must. It’ll 
come, it’ll come, an’ I’ll be left on the strand. ’Igh 
’eaven tide can’t bring me off ; wind can’t blow me off. 
I be stranded, stranded, when the time comes. No, no, 
mister, not now,” he added with a shake of his head as 
he saw Mr. Wallace was about to say something. “ I he 
cornin’ to Jericho some day, but it’ll be clearer sailin’ ’n 
when I war thar last. Now I’ll ’old ‘ Fryer’ agin, so ye 
ken see. We calls ’er Fryer,” he said in an explanatory 
way, pointing to the lantern, “ cause ye ’olds ’er over the 
water an’ she prys into the mud an’ calls ’em up like — 
almost alius knows whar they be, so ‘ Fuller,’ that be the 
’00k, most alius fetches ’em at its first send out. Full to. 
Gaff.” 

Gaff drew near, the cheque was smoothed out on the 
spar, the rays looked brightly down and struck the words 
as they were traced, “ One hundred and twenty pounds ;” 
the figures, too, they shone upon “;^i2o,” the name they 
saw, for that was their business, it is not ours, and we 
might look at it if we chose, hereafter, when Gaff draws 
it, not the name but the sum, the ^120. 

No landed proprietor steps with purse-strings clutched 
more greedily than did Gaff when, folding up the 
cheque, he realized that whenever he chose the money 
would be in his hand. 

Feleg laid his hand heavily on Gaff’s shoulder, but 
not in weighty disapproval, “Ye be done as ye ought. 
Gaff. If ye wants a Snatcher o’ yer own, I can’t say no ; 


290 


• THUMP'S CLIENT. 


but I feels that the tide or the wind, or suthin’ is a pullin’ 
me without paddlin’. Mebbe it be Jane’s craft that I gits 
into sometimes. If that be so, Gaff, stay in Snatcher till 
ye’re the cap’n yerself, an’ then ye ken do as ye likes. 
Mebbe git a first mate, as I did ; but git as good a un, 
that’s all. I can’t ’elp ye up,” he pointed to the belong- 
ings of the barge, and turned wearily away. 

“ How ken I let ye know, mister .? by the man as can’t 
see.^” he said, as he passed Mr. Wallace. 

“Yes ; but friend, let me help you if you — ” 

“ No, no, it be only ’cause the time be nigh ’ere. It 
must come, I knows, fer she war born a leddy, an’ be 
well up in letters, figgers, an’ manners ; an’ what she’s 
born an’ bred to, she must come to. An’ me — I’ll go to 
Jane ; thar be where my breedin’ takes me, to mess with 
my first mate. I can’t stay ’ere when she be gone.” 

Much of the latter was lost upon Mr. Wallace, for 
Peleg moved on wearily, sadly, towards Wreckers Court. 

Gaff stood with one of the number nines resting on 
the spar, which had no desire to tilt now. It had wit- 
nessed mock sorrow, and it had toyed with the maker of 
it ; it had witnessed finder and owner sorely grieved, 
and when he turned away without carrying it, it seemed 
glad to be kept down under the eleven foot, where it 
could watch the drama more closely. 

“If ye war to tell me the man’s name as wants ’em, 
so I could tell the un as feels bad,” said Gaff, after 
waiting for something from Mr. Wallace which did not 
come, for the latter was following with anxious look the 
retreating form of Peleg. 

The salutation startled him, and he waited a moment 
to collect himself and his thoughts ; to do the first, be- 
cause he was partly on the spar and partly on the broken 
plank, his pen was still unsheathed, his stand of ink yet 
unsealed and liable to an overturn from the dog’s tail, 
which was starting upon erratic movements as he was de- 
ciding according to his own view of things, that as one of 
the party had walked away, his master might soon do the 
same ; so, while collecting these, Mr. Wallace had free- 
dom to perform a like operation upon his thoughts, al- 
though he went about it not in the same manner. 


‘^BELONdN'S IS KEEPIN'Sr 291 

‘‘What agreement did you make with him regarding 
the delivery of them ?” 

“ Didn’t ye ’ear ?” • 

“ No, 1 was not near enough, and had all I could 
risk to keep my dog from springing upon him. Tell 
me in a few words, and you can then carry the cargo, for 
I have a long walk before me, and must be off. Down, 
sir, down, we will soon go,” he quieted the dog and lis- 
tened to Gaff, who told him of the indefinite time. 

“ Now, let me see” — Mr. Wallace thoughtfully counted 
upon his fingers the day, by their hoped-for events, or 
the hoped-for events by days — “ that will do, that will 
do ; one week from to-day. Gaff, swell tide.” 

“ That be the time, but what be the word V' asked 
the first mate, evidently more perplexed with the unde- 
cided than the decided. 

“You were shrewd enough in the game you played 
with him ; I will trust youjto manage anyone he may 
send, and for information, a good reward. Gaff. But 
this much, remember, not a word of Meg, as you call her, 
not a word of me.” 

Gaff, at first, looked very much as if he had lost a 
prop, but after a moment’s thought he looked up with an 
expression of surprise at the confidence put in him, and 
said, “ I be willin’ to paddle alone, mister, thank ye fer 
the — ” and he laid his hand upon the coat which covered 
the pocket. “ I’ll be Gaff Hamper, cap’n o’ Cruiser” 
some day. I ’ad ’er named long ago, ye see ; I been a 
lookin’ fer it someways, but I never see just ’ow.” 

“ Do you know how to get the pounds that it will call 
for?” 

“ No, but I ken ask Meg ; she knows letters, figgers, 
an’ manners, ye knows.” 

“ No, no,” broke in Mr. Wallace quickly, “ say noth- 
ing of this to her now, nor of anything that has happened 
to-night, and then it will be a surprise to her when you 
get Cruiser ; don’t you see that would be better ?” 

“Ye be right, mister ; thank ye, thank ye ! I will ask 
ye when I wants it.” 

“ Yes, that is by far the best thing you can do,” re- 
turned Mr. Wallace, with relief. “ Now, good night, or 


292 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


good morning we might say. I’ll see you again, any 
night, maybe. Give me your hand.” 

Gaff extended his left, and drew it back in embar- 
rassment, for Meg, who was so “ well up” in manners 
had taught him better ; so forward came the right, and, 
as it never wore a glove — in fact, it is to be doubted if it 
knew of such an article — we cannot compare its size, 
but say that it was proportionate with the eleven foot. 

“ Good-by,” came from Wallace as his hand was swal- 
lowed in the hearty grasp it met. 

“ Good day, good day,” and as the master and dog 
turned away, Gaff smoothed something which he imag- 
ined still lay in his hand — no, not imagined, for we have 
found his attempts before futile, so we must say he still 
felt the small soft hand of Wallace, for he said between 
the smooths, “it couldn’t swing a paddle, an’ it — ” just 
then he went to shake it again, and closed his own over 
— itself. With a frightenec^look he raised his eyes, and 
the spar end came plump in his face, for he had taken 
his foot off, and it thinking to watch the goers away, 
tilted, and the end was up. Many times while he was 
piling up the “ belongin’s ” in the next half-hour, he 
smoothed with the left something he felt in the right and 
said, “ It makes me feel as good to touch prow with it as 
to think of — ” and slap came the hand upon the coat in 
the region of the concealed pocket. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE WIND UNINTENTIONALLY BECOMES USEFUL. 

Blue Bottle Court was so still that a step upon 
its walk broke the slumber of Isaac. It was an orderly 
court, though the dwellers therein were poor — poorer far 
than the Little Man who lived near its entrance, and oc- 
cupied what none of the rest could boast of — a house by 
himself ; but this was due more to the dimensions of the 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


293 


building than those of his pocket. We recorded the fact 
before, that it rose but one story, but we did not, per- 
haps, add that it comprised but one room ; so, after all, 
there was nothing to boast of in its occupancy, yet the 
court looked upon it as a private dwelling. Those of 
many lodgers could be entered by the public doors, 
the passages could be peered into, the stairs could be 
climbed, and the lower floor would think some visitor 
for the top ones. But in this little house no one could 
look, no one had the right of way into it but Isaac Har- 
old, and he held himself aloof from all about him. 
True, the building was hemmed in and hedged in at the 
sides and in the rear by higher, smokier, greasier, and 
more dismal walls than it is pleasant to look upon ; but 
are the poor of London ever found where they are aught 
but hedged in and hemmed in, in home, in heart, in 
body, in soul ? 

The step that broke Isaac Harold’s slumber was that 
of Great Heart, not the dog, for the latter trod as he 
should at night, unheard. His master was too much 
agitated in mind to conceal the fact in his step, if he 
thought he did in every other action, for Isaac leaped 
from the little cot in the corner, straightened himself with 
but one somersault, however, and by the time the steps 
were at his door, he ha'd slid into the shorts, drawn on 
the stockings, thrust his feet into the shoes, covered him- 
self with his cloak, forgotten to remove his nightcap, 
which was the simplest contrivance possible — for with 
some it is such an elaborate article of wear — it was a red 
silk handkerchief, knotted firmly at the four corners, and 
the knot of such proportions that the edges drew tightly, 
and in perfect fit about his head. He slipped the bolt, 
unbarred the door, turned the key and stood bowing and 
grinning as his visitor was about to lift his hand to the 
knocker. 

“ Come in ! come in ! ha, ha, ha ! it makes me feel 
like straightening again to see how you look at me. Great 
Heart,” he laughed as, after accepting his cordial invi- 
tation, the master and dog, after whom he closed, bolted, 
barred and locked again, stood in the room. 

“ I am surprised that you should be watching for us, 


294 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


for it is not many hours since we left you,” observed Mr. 
Wallace. 

“ I was not, I was not ; does this look like it ?” he 
laughed again, pulling at the knots that stood out like 
horns. “ You never saw me in this before, Great Heart. 
Would I wear it if I expected you.? No, no. So I will 
out of respect — ” and he drew himself under his cloak 
with the nightcap on, and emerged in the next moment, 
with his head in more shapely and becoming attire — the 
black silk skull-cap, orange-peel shape, with the peel bits 
cut in two, and joined at their points, under a large but- 
ton. 

“ It is an unseasonable hour, Harold, to call, so we 
must not look for full dress. I have been to the river, 
and I have — ” 

“ Have seen hwi^ you were going to say ; yes, Great 
Heart, you were going to say,” for Mr. Wallace shook his 
head. “ I sha’n’t let it draw me up, don’t fear. I have 
been thinking since you left to-night, that I must not be 
drawn up so much. I lose time as well as the gather- 
ings, and maybe I shall lose the lady’s-maids, and those 
are what I most seek now. How can one tell what he 
loses if he don’t go out and see what it would be if he 
wasn’t out .? So, tell me. Great Heart, I won’t draw up. 
You have seen him; yes, you have ! The ashes have been 
heaped upon the coals for the night, and the tea won’t 
simmer. Ah ! if I had known it, the hot fire you would 
have found, Great Heart ! but the big pin is always 
ready and the gatherings of needles, those that I don’t 
want for the tea, I take for the cushion. See where I 
keep it at night. I can’t always sleep now, so I reach 
out and find it here at my hand,” and he drew from be- 
side his pillow the cushion. After stabbing it repeatedly 
and earnestly, he grew calmer, and said, “ Now tell me.” 

“I will, good Isaac, or you will fancy something has 
gone wrong with us. So, now, sit down and listen.” 

“ Wait a moment, a moment ; dearie will be so down- 
hearted if I do not tell her he is here,” so he bustled 
up to the cage as he nodded toward the dog, who had 
stretched himself before the fire, paws extended, head flat 
upon them, eyes winking short and long winks, showing 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 295 

that he could get weary and sleepy if his master did not. 
Dearie was so soundly asleep that she required several 
nudges from the Little Man before she peeped out from 
the rough ball she had resolved herself into when she bid 
her master good night. “ Time’s up ! time’s up !” she cried. 

“ Yes, dearie, for sleep just now it is up. See, see 
who it is. He has come ; you know you are so glad to 
see him that I thought you might be angry if I did not 
call you.” 

The starling turned ojie eye, then the other towards 
the dog, whistled, jumped into the opening of the cage, 
for the Little Man had fastened the door so that it could 
not swing back, and cried again, but this time, “ I’m in a 
hurry! Tm in a hurry !” and stood then arranging her 
feathers, so there might be some doubt as to the cause of 
her hurry, whether it came from a desire to make a hasty 
toilet, or to perch nearer the dog, probably the former, 
for she remained picking and smoothing in the doorway. 
The dog did not even wag his tail, did not even raise his 
ears at her appearance, but he looked exceedingly bored 
as he slipped his head between his paws, and held his 
eyes, closed by a slight muscular effort, which were 
soon taken in hand by sleep itself, and dearie perked 
and smoothed and whistled in vain. 

Mr. Wallace knew it was useless to make protest to 
this inattention to dearie, so he sat down in the leather- 
covered chair he had not long quitted, leaned his head 
back and thought the papers were burning in his pocket, 
so eager were they to be read. Thoughts were burning, 
too, and long, long had they burned, and would have 
seared, shrunken, shrivelled a less generous, a less faith- 
ful heart. 

Isaac touched him on the shoulder, saying, “ Great 
Heart, you are aweary again in heart, in soul ; I see it. I 
will sit here,” and once again was drawn forth the old 
prie-dieu^ his arms were folded across his breast, as if 
determined to meet with firmness whatever might come ; 
the head was bent — he had put on the jockey’s coat, yet 
still kept the cloak over his shoulders, for the air was not 
so warm as usual, owing to the fire being smothered for 
the night. 


296 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


“ I am not weary, Isaac, only sad that wickedness 'will 
find men to do its work. Bat I will tell you what 1 know 
you will ask again about. I crept to the river — or rather 
after I drew near the river, I crept softly along the quay, 
for I heard voices. I knew one was his, I always know 
it ; my dog knew him, and so I dare not draw near 
enough to hear his words, for he would have sprung 
upon — ” 

‘‘ And left none of him to drink the tea. No, no, that 
won’t do,” said Isaac without raising his eyes. “ I must 
break in once in a while. Great Heart, or I shall draw 
up.” 

“ That is all right, Isaac. Well, I had to linger and 
not hear. Peleg Hamper had left his son Gaff at the 
landing of Snatcher, with whatever it is they — ” 

“ Gather,” suggested the Little Man. 

“ Yes, that will do ; and he came along — happened of 
course — ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! happened V' yelled Isaac, unfolding 
his arms, throwing them wildly about him, and throwing 
off his cloak at the same time, “ happened ! Nothing ever 
happens with him.” 

“ But something will soon happen to him.” 

“ No, no, I am losing courage since I began to draw up 
so much. We have tried so many years to make some- 
thing happen. Great Heart, that I am aweary, too. He 
will do me harm again, again, and the — the last. I know 
it, they tell me. Go on now — no, wait, my cushion, my 
pin, my needles. There now.” 

“ No, no, Isaac, we will live, both of us, to see all 
right, and he out of our way. We will rest, rest, some 
day.” 

The Little Man looked solemnly — and Mr. Wallace 
in after time thought prophetically — upward, raised his 
finger, nodded, and in a soft whisper said, “Yes, up 
there where they live !” 

“You meet trouble, good Isaac, let me meet you with 
something that will bid trouble hide itself,” and he drew 
forth the water-worn, pocket-worn parcel. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! a new gathering ! a new gathering ! 
Do you wonder I heard your step in Blue Bottle ! Do 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


297 


you wonder ? Do you wonder ? Does anybody won- 
der ? Open the sack, Great Heart, open ; let me pick the 
wick, let me stir the coals, let me stab the cushion, let 
me straighten, let me do anything, anything, so I don’t 
draw up before you get the sack open and the gatherings 
laid out,” and he began to do each of these as he spoke, 
except the “ drawing up,” from which he was saved by 
the expedition of Mr. Wallace in untying and laying out 
the papers. The somersaults he was just fairly in the 
midst of when, chancing to come upon his feet near the 
leathern chair, he saw they were ready, and halted sud- 
denly, drew the low seat to one side, pressed both the 
long thin hands tightly on his head and said, “ I came 
near drawing up ; when I do, the blood is all here, all 
here ; it will burst out and trickle through my fingers, I 
think, if I don’t hold it in this way. Now, now. Great 
Heart, read.” 

“ I have not read them yet myself, and you must be 
patient, good Isaac, if I cannot read all — see, blurred — 
nearly gone.” 

“ Ha ! blistered, scalded ! yes it looks like his work. 
Makes me think of the hearts he has — never mind, we 
know, we know ; read.” 

The first one opened was so crisp in some places, so 
tender in others, that they drew a wooden stool before 
them, and laid it where it would meet less rubbing than 
upon the knee of Mr. Wallace. Spreading it out the two 
leaned over it, Harold with a candle, which shed its 
feeble rays gladly upon it. Great Heart without a candle, 
but with an inward light, which seemed to bring back 
those words and ‘letters quite gone, and deeper those 
faint and jaded, soaked .out, and crushed out, till they 
made quite distinct the following : 

“ In London, sick, alone, almost penniless. Let no one 
know of your journey, let no one see you leave. Misfor- 
tune has overtaken me, but with returning health, under 
your tender, loving care, I shall be soon myself again, 
and friends need not know that adversity threw me on 
my back in one of the poorest, dingiest courts of all Lon- 
don. Do not be surprised when you find me. A lawyer, 


’298 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


a friend, will meet you. It is he who writes this, and will 
conduct you safely to me. Let your 'coming to London 
be unknown. Heaven speed you to a man sick in body, 
heart, and soul ! 

‘‘Henry.” 

“ S. S. Trout, Esq., 

“ Lunley Lane, London.” 

Notwithstanding the outward light of the candle held 
by Isaac Harold, and the inward light of intuition, in- 
visible powers, or what you will, held by Mr. Wallace, 
the foregoing was not so readily made out as it has been 
penned by the writer, or perused by the reader. It was 
conned and studied. Now a word at the beginning was 
quite easily deciphered ; hope was taken that it augured 
for more of the same, but line after line was unmastered 
till, at last, near the end one, maybe, twp words stood 
forth like sentinels pointing to what they guarded. -Now 
again to the front ranks went the candle without and 
the light within, till one and another joined the band of 
the reclaimed. 

Hour after hour passed, candle after candle went out, 
to be replaced by another and another : the starling 
slept soundly in the open doorway, the dog slumbered 
watchfully upon the rug before the fire ; the readers, for 
greater ease, had drawn near to the table soon after the 
arduous task began. Great Heart still in the chair of 
comfort ; Harold upon the wooden stool, which was just 
high enough to clear the floor of his shoes even to their 
long points. Heads may have ached, hearts may have 
grown weary, but they knew it not. 

When the paper told its story as plainly as we read it 
now, the sun had looked into Blue Bottle Court for more 
than an hour. He had sent good-sized beams upon Har- 
old’s barred, blinded window, but it did not open ; he 
had shot thread-like rays between the boards, slats, hinges, 
anywhere they could find a place, but it was still closed, 
no sign of life within. It seemed to quite puzzle the sun, 
he and the Little Man had run so many races together, 
even worry him, so much so, that he sent a ray into the 
heart of the green-grocer who kept a pennyworth shop on 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


299 


the comer opposite Blue Bottle tavern, and who was ac- 
customed to seeing Isaac astir betimes, so that it behoved 
him to tap upon the door and say that the pennyworth of 
milk, with the pennyworth of cream afloat upon it, was 
ready. 

In this luxury — for a Blue Bottler — Harold had in- 
dulged ever since the grocer had been in his neighborhood. 

The tap startled them both ; the Little Man took the 
candle, hurried to the door without any of the usual pre- 
cautions of pretending a hasty exit, to find an unexpected 
visitor ; probably it was because he scarcely realized 
what he was doing. 

, But the sun which greeted him before the grocer, hav- 
ing the advantage of the latter — he could send in his 
beams large and rays slender upon the least giving way 
of the door — so put the candle’s flame out of heart and 
light, that Harold stood before his caller holding it with 
blackened wick, melted, dripping tallow. 

“ The milk and cream, pennyworth of each, you 
know, two pennyworth for both,” stammered the green- 
grocer, frightened lest he had offended the Little Man 
by so obligingly serving him at his own door, and might 
thereby lose the only customer he had ever had who had 
paid promptly, we might almost say, ever paid at all. 

“ Yes, yes,” returned Isaac, reaching for the little 
black jug with the unoccupied hand; “yes, two penny- 
worth, two pennyworth. But the sun, the sun, how came 
he up before me ? No, ha, ha ! not up, for I was up be- 
fore him ; but out, I mean, out gathering before n\e. v It 
ain’t very often he is so much ahead of time.” % 

“I don’t know that he is now,” meekly returned the 
grocer, “ I don’t ; indeed, I don’tjhink he is, yet he may 
be, too, now I come to call it to mind.” Appalled at 
himself for again risking the patronage of this customer, 
he added the last by way of reconciliation. 

“ He must be,” said Harold, setting down the candle 
anxl the jug inside, and drawing out a pretty crimson 
bag that may have hung — as it was a gathering — and no 
doubt did find itself once upon the side of some dainty 
dress, laid the twopenny in the hand of the shopman, 
thanking him for his thoughtfulness, then shaking his 


300 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


finger warningly at the sun for his trickiness, turned with- 
in and re-lighted the candle. “It, is daylight, Great 
Heart, but I know it ain’t time yet. It can’t be. It ain’t 
long since we — ” 

Wallace interrupted him, or rather, contradicted him 
by pointing to the candle ends piled upon the table. 

“ True enough,” said Harold, counting them, “ I did 
wrong to the sun, then. I beg his pardon, while I open 
the window and let him in, rake the coals, put on the 
tea-pot ; dearie ! dearie !” 

The starling peeped, whistled, and seeing Mr. Wal- 
lace, called, “ I’m in a hurry ! I’m in a hurry !” 

“And so am I, dearie, so is Great Heart, but we don’t 
feel in a hurry for the same that you do, though. You 
are for crumbs, and we are for desert. Ha, ha, ha !” 
laughed the Little Man at his own wit, “ Deserts, deserv- 
ings, dearie. Ha, ha!” 

“ Great Heart, what shall it be eggs and rolls, or 
chops and rolls ? The grocer at the corner keeps ’em all 
fresh,” and Isaac began drawing on his cloak and adjust- 
ing his peaked hat, preparatory to the purchase of which- 
ever his guest would prefer. “ Here is the grain that 
brings you good digestion, dearie. While Great Heart 
is deciding I will freshen your drink and brush .out your 
cage. There again comes method with time. I have 
not mixed them so much of late as I used to do. But it 
is the drawing up, the drawing up that makes the differ- 
ence.” 

“ Good Isaac, a cup, or several cups of your tea will 
si^ce. I must read more, and I need your eyes, your 
head, and your heart to help ; and I must see the blind 
man before he goes to the office of Trout; the lawyer in 
Lunley Lane, you know.” 

“ Yes, yes, of course you must see him ; he must see 
you, and you must see each other ; very good ; ha, ha ! 
that is good ; the more I think of it, the better it grows. 
I must straighten, it is so good.” 

thrusting out of the hands, a falling upon the open 
palms, and shoes pointed, head round, head round and 
shoes pointed, till the latter were firmly set. 

Before doing this, he had suspended his cloak and 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


301 


hat each upon its peg on the wall, and after doing this, 
he reached for them, saying, as he nodded towards the 
dog, “He must have some ; dearie would never like it if 
he did not. No, she would not eat — she is so fond of 
him — if she did not think a good breakfast would soon 
be ready for him,” so again he made ready for the green- 
grocer’s. 

Mr. Wallace knew that the dog had been busy the day 
and night before, that he had not the incentive to labor 
that his master had; that no highly taxed nerve gave 
him strength artificial and made the calls of hunger al- 
most unnoticed; so, although every moment was an hour 
to him in his eagerness to solve more from the papers, 
he could not object to the proposition of Harold to give 
the dog a more substantial breakfast than a cup of tea. 
Throwing down to the value of a guinea, he said, “ There, 
good Isaac, is something, and the change for the candles 
burned out.” 

“ No, Great Heart, no.” 

“ I shall be here to-night, and we will need more 
candles. Make all the haste possible.’’ 

He hurried out. The coals were lighting, the tea was 
already simmering. Great Heart was waiting, the dog was 
hungry, so he hurried after he was out; but still, mixing 
method with time, which owing to the mistake the sun 
had made, was by no means plenty just then, he laid into 
the small black sack he carried — it no doubt once be- 
longed to some solicitor who had worn it out, or rather 
worn it rusty and rumpled, either by carrying much in it 
for a short time, or nothing in it for a long time, till he 
was himself much like the sack ready from undue pressure 
from without or within to fall, to drop, a wreck of what 
he had once been. And knowing this tender condition 
of the sack, its present owner never pressed it heavily ; 
he laid into it upon that morning, the candles bought in 
such an amazing quantity — three dozen — for a Blue Bot- 
tler, that the shopman at once sent the boy out' to order 
an immediate supply, having emptied his box with filling 
Harold’s order. He also laid in the sack some rolls, some 
chops, mutton. These did not tax it, but upon hefting it, 
he thought the burden sufficient, and so laid some scraps, 


302 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


good if they were fags, under one arm, and a roll of but- 
ter under the other. It might be inferred from this that 
the green-grocer was not a green-grocer exclusively, but 
a shopman who absorbed unjustly branches of trade not 
legitimately his own — the butcher’s, the baker’s, that of 
the dealer in milk and the dealer in butter. The meat 
he bought for Harold alone ; and it being the morning 
of the week upon which the Little Man so satisfied his 
hunger, the chops were, of course, awaiting the pur- 
chaser; the rolls were bought the same way. In milk he 
dealt, an innovation which was justifiable from the calls 
of the Blue Bottlers ; in butter he had been once known 
to so let speculative desires carry away his better judg- 
ment, as to buy a firkin thereof, but Isaac was its only 
patron ; so the chances were, the weather being warm, 
and when not warm, foggy, that from its constantly ac- 
cruing strength, it would soon bear away in triumph the 
firkin, if not the shop ; even the poor souls from the court, 
who had long been unused to the smell of butter, held 
their nostrils as they hastened on and out of’ the shop. 
The shopman gave it to the scavenger, and if anyone 
had cared to do so, he might easily have traced its course 
through the streets of even London. He never bought 
heavily again — that is, of butter. 

Having thus accounted for the facility with which 
Isaac gathered all he needed, for, if not a breakfast, he 
determined it should be a lunch for Great Heart upon 
his return from seeing the blind man — at this thought he 
endangered' the butter under his arm by the convulsions 
which accompanied the modified “ ha, ha !” — we will 
turn with him into the court, where, as he was about to 
step up to the door of his dwelling, the wind, which sud- 
denly darted around the corner, caught his cloak, un- 
pinned it at the throat, and threatened to take it along 
with it or else send it up to an unaccommodating distance 
from its owner’s arms. It was one of those breezes which 
come from nowhere, are bound for nowhere, and have no 
particular business to be abroad, for they never blow but 
once, and so do all possible mischief upon that sole occa- 
sion. But did it do the mischief that it intended to do ? 
In reaching for the suddenly rising cloak, Harold lost 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


303 


hold on the fag-ends of meat that went to make the dog’s 
breakfast, and they fell here and rolled there. He looked 
at them, and he looked to see if another gust were to fol- 
low the last, but seeing all things calm, he laid the black 
bag down, and was about to follow with the roll of butter, 
when a pleasant voice cried, “ Let me do it, let me do it,” 
and a pair of small, soft hands, well-shapen and well 
washed — the last he knew quite unheard of for a Blue 
Bottler in general — began picking up the scraps, while 
the voice continued, “That was a saucy wind. Never 
mind, here they are; can I help you any more.?” as the 
fags were piled on the steps. 

He knew the voice was too cheery, the hands too 
small and clean, the step too quick and the heart too 
willing to belong to the dwellers in the court, who could 
find nothing there to make cheery tones, fair skin, light 
foot ; for their hearts were weighty, their burdens crush- 
ing, else they would not be there. Harold only lived there 
because he could be in a house entire, so rare a thing 
found, that he endured much that he would not otherwise 
have found bearable ; another mitigation, he was near the 
entrance, and so never encountered many of the savors, 
the gases, the smokes, the thousand and one things that 
escape from the crowded tenements. 

“ Thank you, thank you. Miss,” returned Isaac, as he 
looked up from the step on which he had secured his 
purchases and looked into the pretty face of Meg Ham- 
per. He had seen her at the funeral, and he knew her, 
but thought it best not to make himself known, so he 
added after a moment as if in apology for the fags, 
“ These are for the dog.” 

“ And he will be glad of them, I know,” she replied, 
tossing back a few wavy locks that the wind had caught 
at the same time it did the cloak. “ But if I can do 
you no good, I will hurry on. I am carrying a breakfast 
to a poor woman, just at the end of the court, and if I 
find her gone I shall not wonder. How much trouble 
there is in the world, and trouble of other people’s mak- 
ing, too!” The last she seemed saying quite as much 
to herself as to anyone who might hear. 

But not a word escaped the ear of Harold, who re- 


304 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


plied, “ Yes, yes, and it makes so much work to do to un- 
do the trouble ; so much to do and so little time to do it.” 

“There, there,” she cried, picking up a small basket 
she had set in the corner by the step when she began 
gathering the fags, “that is just it, but I never thought of 
it before — that is, never thought where the trouble was ; 
it is because the time is gone before one gets all done. 
Now I will go, or I shall — ” 

The dog, who had smelled the fallen meat and found 
the door ajar, bounded out just then, and with a quick 
joyful bark, as if he had met an old friend, leaped up, 
lapped her cheek, her hands, and forgot his hunger and 
the tempting^ scraps. 

“You are a good fellow,” said Meg, patting him as 
soon as he was quiet. “ You do not know me, though, do 
you 1 Why, see how he lays his' head in my hand.” She 
looked up at Harold as if for explanation, thinking 'he 
was the master, and looked into the face of a man who 
had he been standing for a living statue would have borne 
the laurels ; not a muscle moved, the breath was scarcely 
discernible, so eager was he to catch every tone of her 
voice, every sound of her foot as it struck the ground, of 
her hand as it patted the dog. His hand held a water- 
worn paper, but it was still ; the paper might have been 
held in a hand of stone — not even a tremor. 

The eyes — they were looking at her and at another, 
but where was the other ? Back, back in the past. 

The dog bounded back to his master for a moment, 
and this aroused him. “ Is it anyone whom I can help, 
too V' he asked without realizing what he said. 

“ She calls for help from somebody, but I cannot tell 
who it is. She has not lived here long ; she moved from 
Wreckers Court, the upper end. There is a poor woman 
on the floor below this one that I pity still more, for she 
does not deserve the fate she has met. Her trouble is 
not of her own making; the other one’s is, I fear; but 
I will not judge too harshly. The best and purest some- 
times do what we wonder at,” Meg answered so inno- 
cently, as if she had known Mr. Wallace all her life. “ 
Mr. Hansom called once ; I wish .he would call again on 
— the best one, I mean.” 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


305 


“I know him,” broke in Mr. Wallace eagerly. ‘‘I 
will see him. Do you go often to these poor people V' 

“ Whenever Mother Martha does not object too 
strongly. She says I bring their troubles home with me. 
But who can help it, sir; their burdens — heart-burdens, 
I call them — are heavy enough without those of the body 
too. I often ask myself — ” 

“What I am doing abroad so early.?” 

Meg’s face crimsoned as she turned in surprise and 
said in a voice of welcome, “ Why, good morning, Mr. 
Thump; I might ask in turn, what you were doing 
abroad so early !” 

“ Looking after the afflicted, but I canngt say out of 
so much real unselfishness as you, although I want to 
relieve the poor body. How is she ?” 

“ Much the same.” 

•“ Mother Susan will watch with her to-night.” 

“ And Mother Martha too,” added Meg. 

“ I will not take you from friends,” said Mr. Thump, 
looking up in a wondering way at the two with whom 
Meg was conversing, but seeing Harold extended his 
hand saying, 

“I do not know you by name but by deed. You 
were the bearer of the offering to the unknown dead ! 
I am glad to see you, sir ; what may I call you .?” 

“ Isaac Harold,” returned the Little Man, giving his 
hand and bowing low. 

The junior member of Trout & Thump saw in the 
name something to start at, but he also saw the need 
of at once seeming as if he had not started. He looked 
up to the face of Wallace, and a half smile of recognition 
lighted his face, but it faded, and he said, somewhat 
formally, “ I beg pardon, sir ; I thought I recognized 
you.” 

“ And I might say the same to you, Mr. Thump, for 
having heard of you, I will say I recognize you through 
the description given me by my friend, John Hansom ; 
he tells me he has given you a client.” 

Mr. Thump thought it best to be wary just how he 
replied to this. Here was a stranger who might be a 
friend as he professed, and he might be an enemy of 


3o6 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


John Hansom and his cause, so he replied somewhat 
stiffly, “ I am retained as an adviser to Mr. Hansom, but 
to no one else.” 

“ I heard from him that you had taken a journey in 
behalf of the case,” continued Mr. Wallace, without no- 
ticing the rebuff contained in the young attorney’s words 
and manners, “and as I know him so well, perhaps I 
might venture to ask if you were successful.?” 

Although this was not said in a prying way, as if cu- 
riosity prompted it, nor in an insolent way, as if it were 
the defiance of an adversary, and yet that there was a 
purpose in it, the manner of the speaker showed clearly ; 
but just what it was puzzled Mr. Thump, and not a little 
annoyed, he answered, turning away, “ The confidences 
of a client are sacred, sir ; I will bid you both good 
morning.” 

“ The breakfast will be stale if we delay any longer,” 
he said, smilingly, to Meg. 

“ Yes, the poor woman will look for it. The soup I 
took yesterday tasted so good, she said. But this Mr. 
Hansom you talk about is the gentleman the woman 
down stairs wants so much to see; and can’t we send 
him word .?” Meg asked, half following Mr. Thump, and 
half looking toward Mr. Wallace. The latter, with the 
far-away look gathering in his eyes as she spoke, said, ‘‘ I 
will tell him, I will tell him.” 

“And so will I,” added Mr. Thump. “And now I 
will take the basket, if you do not object to the relief.” 

Meg handed him the well-filled basket, with a gentle 
warning not to spill the tea and the gruel, thanked Mr. 
Wallace, patted the dog, nodded a good-bye to Isaac, 
and stepped lightly away by the side of Samuel, just as 
she had done years before, but not with so much free- 
dom, for when they were alone the old reserve returned. 

“ I am going away, perhaps, Meg,” said Mr. Thump 
abruptly, “ and no assurance to take with me.?” 

The bright red ribbon which held the white fleecy 
covering of her head, that she called a hood when she 
began the knitting of it, paled beside the flush that 
spread over her face ; the plaid mantle drawn about her, 
was clasped and unclasped at the throat, as if now to 


THE WIND BECOMES USEFUL. 


307 


make breathing easier, and now to choke down some- 
thing which was at last put away, for the answer came 
with a pained look, “ When the other assurance comes 
that you know that I know who I am.”- 

“ But if it never comes ?” ventured the young man, 
and the next moment would have recalled the reckless 
venture. 

“ Then — then, I must stay with uncle. There is 
nothing else to do. When are you going T' 

Here was a weakening of the opponent’s side, which 
the lawyer quickly saw. She did not say, “ Then the as- 
surance will never come,” but, “ then I must stay with 
uncle.” 

Content with this for the present, he said earnestly, 
“ Something, Meg, will yet conquer your foolish pride. I 
cannot tell when I shall go. I must first see a client — 
why it is this same Mr. Hansom we were just talking of. 
It is again upon his affairs that I may be called away.” 

“ And upon his you went before, too V' asked Meg, 
looking up as she added, “ It must be a case of much 
importance.” 

“ And so it would be to somebody, if she could only 
be found. There is wealth and station awaiting some- 
body.” 

“ I am sorry for her if she needs them and never gets 
them,” returned Meg with a deep sigh. 

“ She will, I am sure, if she is living, but this I some- 
times doubt. And here we are, Meg ; which floor do 
^ you go to first 

“ I have food enough for both, but will go to the 
poorest and neediest now.” 

“ And to her I shall pay my visit, but if you do not 
care, I would like to see her alone. I find she needs le- 
gal advice. Mother Susan sent me to see what I could 
do for her. Let her have her breakfast first, and then I 
will see what can be done for her in her trouble, which 
she does not seem able to state very clearly.” 

“ She has spells of delirium, and I never mind what 
she says in them, but I know Miss Thump and Mother 
Martha do. I hope and pray you may help her, but I 
feel that she has not always done right. She sometimes 


3o8 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


begs me to stand behind her so she cannot see me, for 
she says she does not want anyone young near her, it 
reminds her of other days.” 

If Meg had been less modest, she would have quot- 
ed more truly the poor sick creature’s words, “Young 
and pretty, sad and fair.” 

“ She has, in her sane moments, asked for a lawyer, a 
justice, some one to whom she could relate her story, 
Mother Susan tells me ; but is no one with her.?” he 
asked. 

“ No ; Mother Martha left her an hour ago, and I am 
to give her her breakfast and remain till she comes back.” 

“ Then I will not go in, for I must have a witness to 
what she says. No, Meg, no,” he added quickly, as he 
saw she was about to offer, “ you see too much now of 
life’s miseries, more than you would if — if I had my way.” 

Meg blushed ; she knew what he came near saying 
after the first if. 

Mr. Thump knew that Meg was to carry the break- 
fast that morning, and he knew also that there would 
be no one else with the invalid, for it might be, several 
hours ; so, having played his part very well, there re- 
mained nothing for him to do but to carry the basket up 
the narrow, rickety flight, leave it at the door of the 
third, rear, and bid Meg good morning, but not good-bye. 
“ I shall see you,” he said, “ before I go, and may I not 
tell Mother Susan that you will stay with her again while 
I am away .?” 

The chair, the cup, the books, the pictures, all beck- 
oned, her to the cottage in Lunley Lane, and the wash- 
ing — washing that always died away there ; but she only 
said quietly, “ She shall not be too much alone.” 

“ That means that you will come, I know. Good 
morning ; I shall tell her,” and waving his hand at a 
remonstrance he saw might be made if he lingered, he 
picked his way down the third flight. 

Meg brushed back the tears that hid the string-bound 
latch and entered on her errand of mercy to the sorrow- 
ing and suffering friend or foe. 

Mr. Thump did take another journey to Wenham, but 
not immediately. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


IN WHICH THERE IS FEAR OF FOULNESS AGAIN IN THE 
GREAT CHIMNEY. 

Mr. Wallace watched them ; the dog sniffed for 
the fags ; Isaac took up the bag, the butter, the meat, 
and then watched them too. 

It will do, it will do,” said the latter approvingly. 

“ What will do ?” came from Mr, Wallace, mechani- 
cally. “Yes, I think it will do; he is not disposed to be- 
tray his trust, and I like him for it, and must tell John 
Hansom. 

“ And how glad John Hansom will be ; I should like 
to hear you tell him ; ha, ha, ha ! that’s good, very 
good, but somehow it don’t make me feel like straighten- 
ing, as good things do most always. Great Heart,” he 
lowered his voice, “ I feel more like drawing up ; but I 
won’t, no I won’t. The sun was ahead of time, and Idelt 
spite at him when I opened the door and window to let 
him in ; but after I got out with him, I didn’t feel so. He 
warmed me, and when he came he brightened me, even 
if the wind did blow me ; but now I don’t feel so ; I feel 
choked, the air is bad. The Great Chimney is foul 
again. It snorts and puffs ; it can’t hold all the wrongs, 
the black wrongs that are done in it. It groans with 
them and must throw some off. I never felt it so near 
before. Great Heart, never. I put the tea on the coals, 
and I did not put needles in, did I } Let me go in and 
see. I must not give you the tea I make for him j no, 
no.” 

He hurried by the master, who followed slowly with 
the dog at his heels tracking the fags. The fire had not 
brightened so much as Isaac feared for, so the tea was 


310 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


not over done. The chops he drew forth and was about 
to lay them on when Mr. Wallace entered the door. 

“ Only enough for yourself, good Isaac, I must be to 
these,” said he pointing to the papers. 

“ But if I wait, will you lunch with me ?” asked Isaac 
stepping back from the fire towards the cupboard. 

“Yes, gladly, for I think Jericho is too far away for 
these stirring days and nights ; I may lose if I am too far 
out.” 

“ Ha, ha ! that is it ! that is it ! Go and see the blind 
man.” Here he rubbed his hands gleefully, nodded his 
head knowingly. He had laid away the chops, and was 
about to take out the cups, but finding himself still in 
cloak and hat he divested of these, hung them up and re- 
turned to the cupboard with its cups, saucers, spoons, 
and bowl of sugar. These he carried to the table and 
placed beside the small black jug that held the penny- 
worth of milk with the pennyworth of cream afloat upon 
it. “ Yes, go and see him, and then come to me ; come 
to the chops done to the juice with butter on them, hot 
butter, that hot platters keep hotter ; come to the rolls, 
brown and tender; come to the tea just on the simmer; 
come to these and I will wait.” 

“Yes, Isaac, I will, and by that time I shall feel hun- 
ger and its needs. Now a cup and let us to work.” As 
he held out his hand for the tea Harold was pouring, the 
far away look came again to his eyes, and he reached 
some distance beyond where he should. 

“ You are aweary, Great Heart, aweary ; drink this, 
it will rest you.” Harold placed the cup by his side 
while he was still reaching, took his hand and laid it 
upon the table, poured for himself, drank it off as fast as 
the heat would permit. 

Mr. Wallace brought back again by the dog, who had 
waited patiently and now began to make himself and his 
needs known by putting his forepaws on his master’s 
knee, thus bringing his head where he could overlook 
the table, threw down a bit of paper he had in his pocket, 
and on it the fag^, then began to drink too. 

” Too bad, too bad ; I am sorry, dearie, that I forgot 
him,” Harold called in an apologetic tone to the bird 


FEAR OF FOULNESS. 


31I 

who was now upon the perch, evidently in not a very 
amiable mood, that she should have been so neglected ; 
when all were without, she was within alone. “ The fact 
is, dearie,” her master continued advancing to the cage 
with his cup in one hand and some hempen in the other, 
“there has been so much to do this morning and so little 
time to do it, even with the sun so much ahead, that one 
forgets somethings, and can’t help it. He don’t mind it, 
so you needn’t.” 

“Time’s up! time’s up!” cried the starling, with now 
the right eye on the hempen, now the left, as she flew to 
perch in the open doorway. 

“ Yes, dearie, yes, it now begins to look as if time 
would be up some day. It looks more like it, I must say, 
than it ever has before. It loaks more as if I might make 
the tea for him. Don’t you think so, dearie.^” 

The bird whistled, cracked the hempen, and called 
out this time, with her neck stretched so that she could 
peep over her master’s shoulder at Mr. Wallace, “ I’m in 
a hurry ! I’m in a hurry !” 

“ So am I in a hurry, dearie, for it’s all to be gathered. 
The gatherings are hard to find, and when they are found 
it is hard to know where they fit ; don’t you think so. 
Great Heart ?” 

“ Not any that I have found yet, good Isaac. I can 
place them all, I think. Another cup,” and he held forth 
for a re-filling, “ if you please. Who ever made tea like 
yours !” 

“ Nobody, nobody,” laughed Isaac as he hurried for- 
ward, put down his own cup upon the table, creamed, 
sugared and poured with an eager hand for his guest. 
“Nobody can make the other kind either, so well as I 
can — the kind that is full of sharp points that sting while 
the rest of it scalds, blisters, burns deep, burns lasting.” 

“ That will come in time, and there is not so much to 
be done first either,” Mr. Wallace returned in a reassur- 
ing tone. “ This tea is neither hot nor cold, but just right, 
so I shall show' you how I can stimulate my nerves ; see !” 
He held the cup to his lips full, he took it away empty. 

“ One more, Isa?^c, only one ; that will make three. 
There’s luck in threes.” 


312 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


“I'hat’s what we want! that’s what we want!” cried 
the Little Man balancing himself on the long points of 
his shoes. “ Luck, luck, luck ! I pour you out, I cream 
you, I sweeten you, I stir you, and Great Heart drinks 
you,” and having done each of these he handed the cup 
to Mr. Wallace, who said, 

“ I cannot drink all the luck, you must taste it first,” 
and extended the cup to the Little Man, who nodded, 
refused, and looked sad. “Yes, you must, Isaac,” he 
urged ; “ there is happiness for you yet.” 

“ I will taste to please you, but not for luck, not for 
happiness, that will never come here ; but it will come 
when the sack is so large that it will be an eternity in fill- 
ing, when the gatherings are so bright and beautiful that 
the sack will never be heavy and bend the shoulders, 
when the thought that they are new, not cast-off, that 
they are to make happy one’s own soul, and not be sent 
to the second-hand shop. They tell me this, they do. I 
did not believe them at first, but I have so many things 
to put with what they say, that I know it is true. The 
drawing up, the choking with the foul of this Great 
Chimney, the wickedness of this Great London, and a 
something else. Great Heart, I never told before, a look- 
ing behind me, a looking behind me, a peeping over the 
sack as if there was a hand there to strike me — what do 
you think it means.’” While saying this, he turned his 
head timidly, and a frightened look came in his face, as 
if the hand were already uplifted. 

“ It means, good Isaac, that you have lived here too 
long alone, you and dearie, till you have imagined all 
this. Now drink to luck, and of luck, and think no more 
of such things.” 

Isaac drank, but it choked him ; he swallowed, but 
not easily. Putting down the cup, he shook mournfully 
his head. “ No Tise, no use,” he murmured, '‘'‘they always 
.'tell me the truth, and they say it must be.” 

“ You will forget this when the way is plainer.” Mr. 
Wallace spoke cheerily, but the sadness of his old friend 
troubled him. “ I will drink ; what is luck to me, is 
luck to you.” The third cup was tl^us emutied by the 
guest, while the host had but taken half of his first. 


J^EA/^ OF FOULNESS, 


313 


The Little Man pulled up the stool, sat down, leaned 
upon the table, saying, “ Let us see if we can make any 
more straight— the blind man, you know, Great Heart,” 
and a faint smile broke over his face. 

? Yes, yes,” returned the latter, pulling out his watch, 
“ it is nearing nine, nojv^. We will hope and pray that 
our task may be light for awhile. That one,” pointing 
to the paper deciphered, “ was upon . the outside, and I 
trust is more illegible than the rest will be.” 

The papers were laid out, one here, one there ; two or 
three which would not separate without the most skilful 
handling, were put into the unoccupied compartment of 
a leather case which Mr. Wallace carried about him; the 
others could not all be examined that morning, so how 
should he decide upon the one for which he might have 
time. “ Not chance,” said he partly to himself and 
partly to Harold, “not chance, for that has not con- 
trolled me, but whatever has, shall lead me to select what 
will be needful for me to-day,” and closing his eyes, he 
drew out one that was nearly hidden by those upon it, 
that was of newer, fresher foldings, more delicate tint, 
where the water had not yellowed it, and sent forth, as it 
was moved, he and Harold both fancied, a sweet odor. 
It was not so crisp — not so much endangered by the 
opening : it was not so water-marked, not so difficult to 
read. A word here and there, blurred and blistered, 
which were at such regular intervals, that the Little Man 
suggested that they showed each heave of the tide, and 
he might have added, each heave of a heart, so frightened 
at finding itself out of the pure atmosphere it had always 
beat in, that it knew no other way than to still itself in 
the dark muddy waters, perhaps urged into those and 
over others by one who would save her from a worse fate, 
for the enemy was on her track, and would have stopped 
not at any means, so long as she stood befWeen him and 
what he hoped soon to close hands upon. They read : 

“ I am alone in London, but why, I cannot tell. I 
was summoned to meet one for whom I would give my 
life to relieve. He is not here. I am in a wretched 
hovel in Poorly’s Resort. Danger threatens me. There 


314 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


is no lawyer, no Henry, nobody but a man who is so 
cowardly he dare not tell me who he is, nor why he 
should deceive me, and a woman who is almost mad 
herself. He gave me a drink, for I was thirsty with pain 
at heart, whirl at brain, and rage at fate ; a drink that 
has put desperation in my soul. ^ The water is not far 
off. If I do, if I do — I shudder to write it — may heaven 
put these papers I ^hall carry with me, into the hands of 
some one who will find my home— VVenham — who will 
relieve friends from anxiety, my name from the dishonor 
that suspicion might breathe upon it, and bear to Henry 
when he shall return from the long voyage, the assurance 
of love undying. The man and the woman have gone 
out. The water calls me ; its sound will guide me ; its 
waves soon wash me up where I shall wait for him — Ha .! 
this is my chance ! — my brain, my heart ! — I am going, 
Henry, going ! 

“ Maria Ray.” 

The last few lines were hurriedly written, the hand 
evidently nervous with dread at the thought of what its 
owner was about to do, and almost delighted, too, at the 
unexpected opportunity to do it. 

Mr. Wallace laid it down, speechless ; the drops had 
gathered upon his forehead while reading; his hands 
were without tremor, but cold as stone ; the blood had 
forsook them, forsook his cheek, forsook his heart he 
thought, for it beat feebly, so feebly that he grew for the 
moment faint, but the next it leaped from wherever it 
was lurking into his brain, and with it carried a thought 
that was a suspicion, a fear, a dread, in quick succession. 
Would he — the man whom Maria had but too truly said, 
was so cowardly he dare not tell what he would do — 
would he put aside the only other impediment to posses- 
sion .? The very thought that the labor of his life should 
be in vain, and another wrong be done, sent the blood 
whirling anew from heart to brain, from brain to heart. 

Grown a little calmer, he began to think, and the 
thinking brought a sudden decision, and the decision 
brought acting at once. 

“ Harold Isaac, good Isaac,” he began abruptly, with 


FEAR OF FOULNESS, 


315 


the stern, relentless look upon his face, which we once 
said was not the look nature had given, but circum- 
stances, surroundings, the work he had to do, the fate he 
had to endure. 

The Little Man, who was less able to cope with what 
had been divulged — not that he was less quick to per- 
ceive, not that he knew less of what it might mean, it 
must mean — was -startled ’by the words of Great Heart, 
for the tone of his voice, the depth of earnestness were 
new. He laid down the paper which he had taken up 
while Great Heart was silent, and without reply turned 
his small black eyes, so that, as he looked for what might 
follow, they glistened, they gleamed, and two tears were 
soon brushed away by the black silk handkerchief the 
jockey’s coat found place to secrete. 

“ I am going to tell you something,” continued Mr. 
Wallace, his lips trembling slightly as the tears came 
down the swarthy cheeks of the Little Man, thus temper- 
ing somewhat the sternness of the look. “ I meant you 
should know, but not so soon, not till all was clear 
and I could surprise you; but now I must tell you. Last 
summer when the roses were in bud, you took a note to 
Miss Susan Thump, Lunley Lane — ” 

“ Yes, two.” 

“Very true, one was of hand, and the other was of 
pocket, though. The one of hand, my hand, said that 
flowers were to be purchased for beautifying the grave 
of the u?ikrtown — mind, the unknown dead. Now, Isaac, 
sentiment, romance, will lead one of the gentler sex to 
such an act, but think you it led me, a man who has 
lived these years for what I have ? Think you it — not 
the sentiment, but the fact of the unknown, would move 
me to such.? No, Isaac, I knevy her. How.? The blind 
man knew her. Did chance lead him to the morgue .? 
No, it was Miss Thump, it was Rover. But who, and 
what brought Miss Thump to the mendicant .? Chance ? 
No, there we must stop, Isaac, till — ” 

“ Till we can find an answer in the ptherings, Great 
'Heart,” interrupted the Little Man raising his eyes rev- 
erently, and pointing gently upward. 

“ Right, my good friend, right, and many more things 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


316 

will be sought for, and I hope, found in these gatherings. 
One there is you and I will look for first and together.” 

“ Not together, not together. Great Heart,” sadly broke 
in again the Little Man, “ for I shall have many of them 
sorted before you come. I shall have a new sack and be 
well on my journey and learn the way in the green fields 
— for I shall not stop in the Great Chimnies ; I shall 
hurry on to where I can smell the mould and see the 
dew ; I shall learn the way among the freshest and green- 
est and come back to show you to them. Great Heart.” 

“ No, no, Isaac, don’t talk so; let me tell you what I 
was going to say — what we will both look for together — 
why so many innocent must suffer by the wickedness of 
others 

“ Wicked folks. Great Heart, are like London, a 
Great Chimney. They get foul, and they puff, snort, and 
groan with foulness till they must throw it off ; and does 
the soot care where it falls ? Does this Great Chimney 
care, if, when it throws off, the folks that come up from 
its foulness are good or bad — fall into the water or creep 
away to die upon the land.^ No, it must get rid of so 
much. That is my gathering here, but it may not be like 
when I travel the other way with a new sack. But you 
must hurry on to tell me, for the blind man, you know, 
must be with the Trout at ten. 

“ I must, so I must. Well, the blind man knew her 
by — by the everything about her, even the cheek — and 
the blind man suspected it was the work of him'' 

“ Ha ! my cushion, my pin, my needles ! it chokes 
me, it draws me up. Let me straighten, then I won’t draw 
up ; only once across — I’m in a hurry, in a hurry,” and 
once across he went, pointed shoes, round head, round 
head, pointed shoes. “ Now, go on, go on ; I can bear 
it now. I sent the blood away when I straightened ; I 
took it in time. If too much gets- up here,” he put his 
hand upon his head, “ I can’t straighten. I bring my 
cushion with me,” and he brought it to the table, and 
himself to the wooden stool. 

“ So, you know the blind man is shrewd and tells me 
all he suspects. I saw, as he did, whose work it was, and 
I have watched, and tracked him to the bar of jusiice.” 


FEAR OF FOULNESS. 317 

“Where I shall pass the tea to him, Great Heart, 
don’t forget that.” 

“ Yes, you may do that. And yet, before I bring him 
there, I must h'ave him in one more corner — the blackest, 
the barest, the deepest of all. Harold, good Isaac, draw 
near and let me tell you what I have told no one but 
John Hansom. I must tell you, so that you may watch. 
Never breathe it, till the time is ripe.” 

“ Never, never, not even talk of it to dearie. Great 
Heart, for fear somebody might gather it.” 

“ Draw nearer; let me whisper it.” • 

The Little Man bent so low, that the long nose 
neared the table, while the right hand was all the time 
stabbing the cushion, now with the big pin up to its 
head, now with the sharp shining needles. The words 
came fast but low — so low that the writer could not, even 
for the sake of the deserving reader, listen with him, or 
ask the narrator to repeat. Whatever it was, brought a 
sad, pained look first, and then a hopeful joyful one. 

“ Is all ready — all the gatherings in V' asked Isaac at 
last in so loud a tone that we may record it. 

“ Not all — but the fear, Harold, the fear,” said Mr. 
Wallace, looking at him as if for some protection from 
whatever fear he had. 

“ I will make no more gatherings in the sack now. 
Great Heart, they shall be all for here,” placing his hand 
on his head, “and here,” laying it on his heart. '‘'"They 
tell me that the last will be so heavy that I shall sink.” 

“ Long years yet before you, Isaac. And you will 
watch .?” 

“ I will. Great Heart, I will. And the papers — the 
papers of state — what are we to do with them ?” 

“I shall take these, newly found, to John Hansom for 
his attorney. Now I will to the blind man. The night’s 
labor has disordered my dress ; I will put myself in fitter 
plight, Isaac.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” laughed the Little Man with an extra 
twinkle of the eyes, “ certainly, certainly.” 

And soon after, Mr. Wallace and the dog might have 
been seen hurrying to the corner of Lunley and the 
Wilton'. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

“and yours for me, is there such ?” 

To turn back to the afternoon when Miss Thump 
so kindly gave Samuel a chance — and if he did not avail 
himself of it, she threatened never, never to give him an- 
other — we shall be pardoned if we listen and look for 
ourselves, for in such delicate matters as this chance, 
these hopes referred to, a third party cannot always trust 
to the appearance before the public. 

Timidity, lest it be known that each is in love with 
the other; shyness that each has found out the other, 
and general shakiness of hand, head, and heart, are signs 
read differently by people. So we will make sure and 
list. 

Meg watched Miss Thump’s dumpy little figure down 
the walk, through the gate, and as far along the Lane as 
she could see it ; she had never before felt so deep an in- 
terest, apparently, in the safety of anyone. But the little 
woman being fairly out of sight, and no one else happen- 
ing to pass, she was forced to look within — of course, her 
eyes, fingers, and thoughts at once fell upon the pattern — 
the wreck — it had, for many rows lost all semblance to 
the original, which had a sprig in each scallop, with a dot 
which answered for a berry falling from it ; but when 
she now sought for the sprig it had become a straggling 
vine, reaching out finger stitches in all directions, as if 
it sought an imaginary support. She looked at it and 
laughed, one of those merry laughs she used to send 
floating out from Snatcher in the olden times, when she 
thought a pull along shore was happiness enough for a 
mortal here below. 


SAM [/EL’S QUERY. 


319 


“What is amusing, Miss Meg?” asked Mr. Thump, 
admiring the pretty play of mirth, and the attempted sup- 
pression of it on her face. 

“ The pattern, the pattern ! I wonder whatever made 
me knit such scrawls as those,” and she held up the web 
to show the difference between the sprig with its falling 
berry, and the aimless, hopeless vine. Ah, Meg, Meg, 
you missed your point then, if you thought to turn a 
lawyer off the track by your sudden care that he should 
see the mistakes your skilful fingers had made. Did 
you suppose he would sit afar-off and compare the pat- 
tern and the lack of pattern ? It was just the way and 
the only way to draw him near without seeming to. 

If you were skilled in coquetry, we should call it a 
manoeuvre, but you are too innocent, too natural for that; 
so we say you thought to hold him at a distance, taking 
it for granted that he who could weave a cause for plain- 
tiff or defendant with but little to guide, would never 
take thought for the weaving a hood with pattern to 
tell its ins and outs ; and you gave him just the chance 
he was watching for — to fetch a low stool by your side, 
and solve with you, not where the berry from the last 
perfectly knit sprig had fallen, but where your heart had. 

“Meg,” said he, spreading out the web in her lap — 
its straggling vine did not provoke laughter, now ; she 
looked at it, and it took upon itself symmetry — “ Meg, 
Mother Susan will not be gone very long, so do not think 
me abrupt if I tell you something.” Upon this the vine 
to its symmetry added color, life ; the sweet sap began to 
dart in thread-like streams through it, and the buds, buds 
of hope, the same that Mother Susan longed for, swelled 
along its stem ; she still kept her eyes fixed upon it, 
dreading, wishing for the opening of the buds. 

“You will not think me abrupt?” he asked again. 
“ You know' I am going away, and if I had not found you 
here, I should have made so bold as to seek you before I 
went. It is nothing sudden, Meg ; it is nothing new, my 
love for you,” he held the web so still that the buds 
burst forth, in their full beauty, into flowers, without a 
tremor of the vine, without a painful suspense to Meg. 
“And yours for me, is there such ?” 


320 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


The sap sent itself now in a flood through the vine, 
and the flowers unfolded into perfection. 

“ Yes,” came so faintly that none but a lover could 
tell it from “nay.” And farther we have no right to 
list — the time till the maid rang the tea-bell, and just 
as Miss Hamper plied the knocker was sacred to them. 

Meg looked so happy, that Martha kissed her on the 
cheeks, and shook Mr. Thump’s hand warmly. “ Very 
well. Mother Martha, thank you,” he replied, giving her 
as cordial a shake in return, and he was about to add, 
“ very happy, too,” but Meg laid her hand upon his 
arm and whispered, as Miss Hamper turned to speak 
to the housemaid about the filling of the basket, “ Uncle 
must be the first told, or he would feel hurt then she 
blushed deeply at the thought of what was to be told. 

The tea-things had been laid in the room adjoining the 
little parlor, where Susan had wisely so ordered when she 
went out, saying to herself, “Just the thing.” So when 
all needed directions had been given, and their perform- 
ance well under way. Miss Hamper came back to the 
parlor, and told them what she was to do, and that haste 
she felt was necessary to give Miss Thump freedom for 
her own tea and preparations for her son’s journey. 

“The bell rang as you knocked. Mother Martha.” 
Mother Martha! she thought Mr. Thump had addressed 
her so before ; now she was sure, and in being sure was 
content — “and we will go out at once.” 

When they came to the table they found it laid for 
Miss Thump, her son, and one guest. Seeing this, Mar- 
tha stepped a little back to see what course things would 
take ; she did not like to deliver Susan’s message until 
she was asked to preside. 

“ As you are in haste,” said the young master of the 
house, turning to her, “ I will ask Meg to turn the tea,” 
and led that lady to the seat of the mistress of the cot- 
tage, and almost at the same time conducting Miss 
Hamper to the place for the visitor. 

Meg took the honors modestly, with the pleasantest 
fancies flitting through her brain ; the polished tea-urn 
reflected her face, her face reflected her heart, and her 
heart reflected Samuel’s. Mother Martha did not see 


SAMUEL'S QUERY, 


321 


all these reflections, but she felt them, and doubtless it 
would be hard to point out a more quietly happy trio 
than shared the most delightful tea-rolls that were ever 
put upon any board, buttered with what only the sweet- 
est and purest cream can become ; the toast, which was 
brown and crisp, not burnt and tough ; the cold meat, 
which was tender ; the china cup that Meg filled for 
Samuel, the one she had drank from once, but he did not 
know it then, seemed lettered with gold unalloyed, not 
gilt well burned. That gentleman drank to excess of 
tea; it must have been from the pleasant sensation of 
passing the cup to the pretty mistress of the urn. 

“ I never found so fine a flavor in tea before,” he said 
emptying it for the third time. “ It must be because I 
am going on a journey and am wisely laying up a store 
of stimulant for future drawing upon. It surely can be 
for no other reason,” he added with a smile towards 
Meg, who blushingly replied, 

“ I have heard, I think, that you were fond of tea,” as 
she turned from the urn again. She knew she had heard 
no such thing, and perhaps the thought of this stretching 
of the imagination added to the blush. “ Mother Mar- 
tha, your cup is in need of more.” 

“ Yes, child dear, I will take another,” and while this 
was being prepared, Mr. Thump and Miss Hamper began 
talking over the possibilities and probabilities of securing 
work for Charley, as she had between the bites of roll 
and butter, meat and toast, told him something of the 
need and apparent worthiness of the little family at the 
Resort. Before they arose from the table, the tiniest 
shadow had crept over Meg’s face, she tried to laugh it 
down when Samuel said something funny, but it would 
creep on again. 

When the meal had been completed with a second 
course — of cake and sweetmeats — they arose, and the 
basket having been properly furnished by the housemaid. 
Miss Hamper made haste to be off with it, and Mr. 
Thump made like haste, as if he expected, and fully in- 
tended to be off with them both, and thus render an 
escort for Mother Susan on her return, for it was now 
lamplight ; but for some reason this was most obstinately 


322 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


opposed by Miss Hamper, who declared the maid was the 
proper one, and only one, for she might be needed to 
help. This last argument was effective, decisive. - 

When alone, Meg, looking up from the books she was 
absently turning over, by the table in the little parlor, 
which was made warmer, cozier, rosier than ever by the 
mellowed light from a pretty astral lamp, “ Samuel, I 
must tell you before you go what I should have said a 
few hours ago, but the spell was so sweet I dared not 
break it.” 

“ Pray, what can it be, my little Meg returned 
Samuel in light tones as if he thought the matter trivial ; 
but when he looked at her a shadow fell also upon him, 
for he saw how earnest she was. 

“// can never be,” she said sadly, “ till I know, till 
you know who I am.” 

“ If that is all,” he laughed in a relieved tone — ‘‘ if 
that is all that annoys you I can soon nonsuit you, Meg, 
for do you know who I am ? Do I know who I am V' 

“ But you are a man,” argued the girl, with the shadow 
lifted not a whit, and no one asks that. I am, I shall be 
a woman soon, and if it should be they will ask — your 
friends, I mean, not mine — will ask, ‘ who was she ?’ you 
must be able to tell them, if there is no stain upon my 
name; and if there is you shall never tell them, for they 
shall never aSk. — It shall never be.” 

Mr. Thump saw at once it was a matter of conscience, 
and said softly, “ Do not let this trouble you, my little 
girl ; it will be all made right some day, I know. Re- 
member, I am the saved from fire and you from water, 
neither can boast of the other,” he said in a cheering way, 
but added gravely the next moment, “ Boy or girl, man 
or woman, known or unknown, the question should never 
be who was^ but who is. It might be, Meg, if we knew 
our ancestors, we should find they had been more noble 
in birth than in deed.” 

Meg gave him her hand in gratitude for the consola- 
tion, and it may be he took more — we do not know, for 
just then the gate clicked, and Miss Thump with the 
maid and the emptied basket came quickly up the walk ; 
but we do know that her pride was none the less stead- 


SAMUELS QUERY. ’32,3 

fast, and her determination unshaken, yet her hopes 
were brightened. 

Miss Thump was in a measure prepared for the proof 
that Samuel had taken the chance by Miss Hamper when 
she told her that he put Meg himself in the seat for turn- 
ing tea, “ and he called me Mother Martha.” Then she 
nodded, Susan nodded, and thus they settled the matter 
without further comment, but the latter doubtless was 
more from lack of time and proper place than desire. 

Mother Susan’s supper .was kept heating for her ; tea 
was turned again by Meg at her request, and she, before 
receiving due notice of what might take place, began to 
count the weeks that must needs go by before they should 
sit there as one family, before the Daily Bee would publish 
and the family bible record. 

The portmanteau was packed, the basket re-filled, and 
it with divers bundles were sent by the housemaid again 
to Poorly’s. Susan had resumed her sewing in the 
parlor, but Meg not her knitting, that, with the needles, 
the balls, the straggling vine here, and the sprig there, 
were laid away and the stitches never knit off, for in 
all the long years that followed Samuel’s love never 
changed. 

Nine o’clock came ; nine and a quarter, nine and a 
half. Swiftly these quarters sped. At nine and one more 
quarter Samuel said, “ It will soon be time ‘for me to go. 
I will take a fly to the Cross Bow, for I cannot be hur- 
ried in saying good-bye.” 

The extra wrapping was thrown over the chmr, the 
portmanteau was set near the street door, the lunch-basket 
filled and put upon the mantel, while “ a few bites,” Miss 
Thump said, were set out for the traveller. 

Meg's heart was so full that her eyes now and then 
were the same, and she began 'to feel a little sorry that 
she had not kept tlje proviso to herself until his return. 
Ten o’clock came, and taking up the extra coat to see if 
this pocket held a pair of gloves, and that a clean hand- 
kerchief, after which he began putting it on with the help 
of Mother Susan upon the one hand and Meg upon the 
other. He said, “ I do not know exactly how long I shall 
be gone, but shall feel so glad to know that you will not 


324 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


be alone, mother, for Miss Hamper tells me Meg can, 
and needs to stay — and I hope when I take my next 
journey, if I must take one alone, that' she will find there 
is really no other place for her to stay, and that this is her 
home. What say you. Mother Susan, to a daughter even 
better fitted for your love and to love you than a son ?” 
and he put his arm about Meg and drew her tenderly to 
his side. 

She hid her face and shook her head a little, which 
made him say, “ She has a foolish notion which I shall 
trust to you while I am gone to quiet forever.” 

Miss Thump not being taken by surprise — she seldom 
was — brushed back the tears, swallowed the lump in her 
throat, put Meg’s hand in Samuel’s, laid them both be- 
tween her own and said, 

“ Samuel you always know what to do, and when to 
do it ; a daughter I need, a wife you need, and Meg is 
the only one who can be both.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE WILY TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 

Thus matters stood with them, when after his return 
he asked for the assurance from her in Blue Bottle Court. 
He knew she was to carry the breakfast that morning, 
and he knew it was no time for him to call as adviser to 
a sick woman. He stopped at the cottage on his way 
back, and then feeling little like going to business early, 
he walked for a few blocks, and as he came again near the 
Wilton he saw the blind man and his dog just taking 
position. He had been back nearly two weeks, and yet, 
although he had sent to John Hansom by the sightless 
mendicant, word always came that he would call soon, 
that pressing matters needed his attention elsewhere. He 
thought he would try once more, and so saluted the 
man with, “ Good morning, sir.” 

. . “Good morning, ah ! good morning, good morning!’ 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 


325 


was the return, “ Glad to see you Mr. Thump, for I am 
at last the bearer of the tidings you so long have looked 
for.” 

“ Indeed, but how do you know, friend, that I am Mr. 
Thump ?” 

“ How do I know ? I cannot see ? I cannot say I feel, 
so I will say it is given to me who you are by the step, 
the swing of the foot on the curb. I always wait till a 
man strikes the curb before I am sure of him. If he is 
an honest man he puts his foot up fairly, freely, and 
brings it down squarely. If he is such, I ball him Mr, 
Thump. If he picks his way as if his boots were shiny, 
or his low shoes were nicely tied ; if he puffs a little after 
he has put his feet daintily, craftily on the curb, then 
I say that must be Mr. Trout; if he slinks, slips, sidles, 
slurs, and feels more at home in the mire of the street 
than the cleanliness of the curb, I say that must be a 
man called Marplot; and if he chops with his feet and 
stumps with his cane, and hums cheerful tunes to Owlie, 
to keep the bird’s spirits up and the eyes bright, I say 
that must be clever, keen, good-hearted John Hansom, 
who says, sir, that he will see you soon, if not this after- 
noon, then say to-morrow sure.” 

“Very good, I shall only be too glad to see Mr. 
Hansom. But, my friend, do you know all these you 
have mentioned 

“As proof that I am not deceiving you, there is Mr. 
Trout now crossing the Wilton and the next lane above 
— Angleby, I think they call it. Hear him pick his way, 
hear him steal on the curb, fox-like without his cunning ; 
cat-like without her craft. I am to meet him at his office 
at ten o'clock, and if you can just as conveniently be 
away it would suit us better. I can coax out his claws 
sooner and clearer, not to harm me, but to see how sharp 
they are, and who he means to pounce upon. I do not 
stand here for nothing. I am in the service of John 
Hansom. Please drop a coin and pass on. I shall not 
go to his room until I hear you go by again.” 

Mr. Thump was puzzled sorely. He turned to look 
in the direction of Angleby crossing, and saw, sure 
enough, the bland face of his partner bending over, not 


326 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


an imaginary bit of dust, but a veritable speck of mud 
that had been so audacious as to alight upon the lus- 
trous broadcloth, and thus cause much annoyance to 
the wily Trout, who pinched it between thumb and fore- 
finger, crushed it to atoms, wiped the place that had re- 
cently known it, first with the side of his hand and then 
brushed it with his spotless handkerchief, dexterously 
manipulated by doubling together two of its diagonal 
corners, while the other two were left free to do the 
whisking away of the stain, which none but the twinkling 
eyes of the Trout could see. If he had only been so nice 
in discriminating a bespattered conscience, and as eager 
to cleanse it, how much more laudable the exertion. Not 
that we would make light of neatness of dress, but ,that 
we would say he who has time to so scrupulously guard 
the outward, could now and then look within for the sake 
of diversion, if nothing more. 

But this was the lawyer’s great failing; he stooped 
and stopped for specks and let the weighty slip him. 

He should have had his client under training long be- 
fore, even upon her first arrival ; Im should have claimed 
by papers found, and what not found he should have 
made, just as craft and cunning had whispered to him 
when he stood within the vaults of the municipality and 
examined, searched, made notes of the yellow, tender, 
and musty, and copy of one. But although he listened 
to them for a time, and they felt sure their advice was 
heeded, and about to be acted upon, lo ! he was suddenly 
off for an imaginary bit of dust, or a veritable speck of 
mud that he thought seemed to shadow something, he 
knew not exactly what. He had now more cases since 
his young clerk had become his partner, although his 
standing for shrewdness combined with honesty was 
good before — have we not long since recorded him as 
the honest and well reputed ? His partner always struck 
out for the main thing in a case which was either to be 
laid low or well established. In the pursuit, he never 
heeded the bits, the specks, or the bubbles ; he left the 
first two to rub off in the conflict, and the last to burst 
when they were ready. To his advice the senior mem- 
ber often, and more often than he would acknowledge, 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 


327 


trusted. Could he have shown a clear claim for his client 
he would have invoked his aid and played his own game 
with Marplot, but he saw at a glance, when he first began 
to look into it, that there was too much to be supposed, 
and supposed without ground, for this partner’s co-opera- 
tion. 

“ Mother Susan,” he always said to himself, “ played 
the deuce with him. Folks can be called honest and 
live, but they can’t be honest and live, and he will find 
that out in spite of her say so.” And whenever he said 
that, he smiled one of his bland smiles that meant some- 
thing — they did not all — and would rub together the 
palms of his soft white hands, as if to say, “ I shall show 
her some day.” 

So upon this particular morning, when he was bend- 
ing over the specks of mud, Mr. Thump was betaking 
himself so far away from the blind man, that it could 
never be suspected that they had exchanged words. He 
passed on to his office, and received from the clerk the 
morning’s letters. Finding nothing of importance, he 
made up his mind to give the mendicant the chance of 
of an interview, untrammelled by nearness to him ; so, 
strolling up and down the outer room, still keeping on 
his extra wrapping, and half drawing on and wholly 
pulling off his gloves while he waited, he soon heard 
the same soft dainty tread that had so easily carried its 
owner over the crossing and up on the curb of Angleby. 
As soon after the first ascension of this tread as was 
consistent with the inclination toward portliness in form, 
and consequent curtailing of breath, the small white 
hand of the senior member was laid upon the latch, the 
door was opened, and a bland “Good morning, Mr. 
Thump,'” greeted that gentleman, while a look of entire 
satisfaction overspread his face as he added, after glanc- 
ing at the retained outer coat, and the still suggestive 
actions of the gloves, “ business calls you away early, I 
suppose 

“ Yes,’.-’ returned the junior member after greeting 
Mr. Trout with the day’s compliments. “ Yes, I am 
going to be absent for a while, but I cannot call it busi- 
ness this he said intending to allay any suspicion that 


328 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


might arise if he had been seen conversing with the 
blind mendicant. “ There is nothing pressing this 
morning; the case of Featherstone has been put over, 
and unless you bring something I shall feel at liberty 
to leave the callers who may happen in, in your skilful 
hands for an hour or two, while I recruit and refresh a 
little in this clear fresh air. It is rarely such a bracing 
morning as this dawns upon our murky town, and close 
keeping within doors, since my return, brings a heavy 
brain and tired hand, I find.” 

“ Sorry to hear that, Mr. Thump, for the fact is, I be- 
gin to feel so myself, but mine comes from the labor of 
years, and pours from the sudden change ; so, go, go and 
take a long walk, it will do you good, the best and only 
thing that I see you can do — in fact there is nothing bet- 
ter, actually it is the precise thing to do,” and while say- 
ing this he drew out his watch twice, and looked toward 
the door twice that number of times, for he thought he 
heard once a scratching on the casement, once a “ quiet, 
sir,” once a cane out on a sliding scout for obstructions, 
once a rap ; amid these imaginary symptoms of the ap- 
proach of the blind man, he forgot, of course, the hour of 
day, so, consulting his timepiece for the third time, he 
exclaimed, “ Bless me, I did not know it was ten and ten 
minutes after. I agreed to look up a point of law for 
Featherstone’s friend — a mere friendly accommodation — 
and send him word by ten,” all of which Mr. Thump 
knew to be false, and but an excuse for hurrying him off, 
for he had noted the glances cast toward the door upon 
the least noise from without. 

“ I am getting forgetful, and sometimes think it 
would be better if I stepped out and left only my name, 
which would yield me a little income; but we will talk 
of that by and by. I must look up for Featherstone’s 
friend,” and passed into his own private office, whose 
window overlooked the corner of the Wilton and Lunley, 
where the blind man still stood with hat extended. Thus 
relieved, he took more time to unhat and uneloak him- 
self, while the little mahogany wardrobe was unlocked 
less nervously, and upon two of its three inviting pegs 
were hung the hat and the cloak. From a small drawer 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS, 


329 


were taken a hand-mirror, a brush for the ring of wiry 
hair, a silk pad for rubbing the crown which had no hair, 
a pair of low shoes with smooth broad tie-strings from 
a shelf below the drawer, these were exchanged for the 
highly polished boots, and displayed again the silken 
hose well drawn, and kept so by an invisible holder. 
Having used the mirror, the brush, the pad, and replaced 
them, he closed the door of the wardrobe and seated 
himself in the revolving chair, which was not so loftily 
threaded as it had been the day before when Mr. Wallace 
had advised with him ; so he sat down with even more 
comfortable resting of the low shoes upon the floor. 

“ To-night,” said he, blandly, “ Barley ought to be 
back. I shall then know what has been found. I shall 
then — yes, think I will ; under any circumstances it is, it 
must be more satisfactory than to live alone — and I see 
so many indications that my visits are looked for, that I 
am growing indispensable to her happiness. I cannot 
now withdraw my attentions without greatly dishonoring 
myself and leaving her heart-broken. If she does not 
get the Ray estate, she must the Ivandale ; then if this 
blind man has any claim upon anything or anybody that 
I can get into my hands, and I leave this professional 
business, which is daily growing under my sagacious 
management, to Thump, give him my name with a per 
cent, of the income for its use, I really cannot see why I 
am not well established for life.” 

Again the soft palms were rubbed and the nails were 
paired with such merry little cuts that the taper ends 
were much in danger of sundry scratches. “ I have 
called often of late, yes, very often, so often as to make 
it a matter of jest between the little devil who answers 
the door and anyone about. Now I really cannot feel 
that I am doing the right thing to subject her to the 
ridicule she surdy will meet if I should not — yes, yes, I 
will see what news Barley brings, and then carry out my 
plan — my plans, I mean,” and he drew from his pocket 
the copy, exact, he had made of the one yellow, tender, 
and musty ; but he hastily returned it, as he heard voices 
outside interluded with short barks and curious sniffs — 
that is, sniffs of curiosity. Soon after the clerk tapped, 


330 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Mr. Trout bade ‘^come in,” the door opened, and the 
blind man following so closely behind the clerk that he 
saved that functionary the trouble of announcing him, 
felt his way in, while Rover who had freed his string 
from his master’s hand, was in advance of all and intent 
upon continuing his investigations at the end of his nose. 
The clerk was about to say something, when Mr. Trout 
arose quickly and came forward to lead the visitor to the 
same leather-covered chair that Mr. Wallace had occu- 
pied the day previous ; so the boy could do nothing but 
take a backward movement out of the room, and close 
the door. With a few uncertain steps and a few scout- 
ing slides of the cane, with one hand upon the arm of the 
chair and the other still supported by the staff, the man, 
with careful, cautious sinkings of the body, as if he were 
not sure, and of course he was not, of the exact location 
of the chair-bottom, he was at last seated. Mr. Trout 
returned to the revolving chair. 

“ I am a little late,” began the visitor, “ for I waited 
to see if he would not go out, “ and pointed in the direc- 
tion of the outer room. “ I felt he would, and knew it 
would be better.” 

“ Whom do you mean, friend, my partner ?” asked 
Trout, glad to see the poor fellow display so much 
shrewd forethought. He could always see this quickly 
in others. 

“Yes, I mean him. You see, I know partners in 
name are not always partners in deed. If you can help 
me, and trust for your fee in the future, I know you 
think it ain’t worth while for two to trust,” the man 
looked as if he was innocent of trickery, but his words 
belied him. This again called forth the unexpressed 
admiration of the honest and well-reputed lawyer. 

“True, that is true,” said he, “but as our practice is 
extensive, it is quite unnecessary that minor matters 
should need mutual attention,” and he stroked the lus- 
trous broadcloth over the right knee with an air of satis- 
faction, while he smiled blandly upon the blind man, 
upon the strokes; the air and the smile were supposed 
to be wasted, as they were only such as could be seen. 

“ And it may be,” was the reply with the same pas- 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 


331 


sive look, but significant words, “it may be that the mat- 
ters we will talk about are not so minor as some other 
things.” 

“ Ah, indeed, you quite excite my curiosity. I saw 
long ago that you were a man of not the ordinary make 
of beggar.” 

A shadow now passed over the sightless face and the 
pained look that followed it was not lost upon the twin- 
kling eyes that watched him as he replied, 

“ I am a wronged man, a deeply wronged man, and 
one whom no one yet has righted. Why ? Because I dare 
not trust my case to anyone’s hands, lest I might be 
wronged again. I stand at the corner — Rover, good fel- 
low, and I — and seek alms, of which, as I told you before, 
I have enough, or shall have enough to leave for his care 
when 1 am gone. My joints are not so limber as they 
once were, my step not so sure, but when I cannot stand 
I shall sit — that is, if I am not righted before, and I shall 
die at my post. I shall never give up what I have under- 
taken,” and he spoke with an earnestness that made the 
lawyer forget his right knee, while the smile faded, and 
the air from one of satisfaction became one of curiosity 
mingled with a little fear — the latter came when craft 
whispered, “ Look out,” and cunning added, “ See that 
he finds out nothing that you are doing. It may be a 
trap.” 

And so, thinking to be cautious, he said, “ If you will 
tell me, friend, who has wronged you, and what you have 
undertaken, I will see what can be done. I make no 
charge, mind, I serve with the same zeal the poor or the 
rich, I told you.” There was a hope that the dog’s legacy 
was greater than the master would admit. 

“ Well, you promise, Mr. Lawyer, but will you perform, 
when I tell you that my enemy — the one who has basely 
cheated me out of my rights, is a client of yours ? How 
can you reconcile that .? Pray, how can you 1 ” 

The blind man bent forward. eagerly, and Mr. Trout 
fancied he could almost see a pair of keen eyes peering 
through the deeply colored glasses. He moved uneasily 
under the fancy, and had he listened to craft would have 
refused further audience with one who was about to 


332 


THUMP'^S CLIENT. 


tempt him to break faith with a client ; but here he was 
again looking after a bit, or a speck, or a bubble, and 
just as he had obeyed the first admonition of craft and 
cunning, turned away and did as he. pleased, and after a 
moment’s pretending thought said, 

“It may not affect the case my client has now in my 
hands.” 

“Yes, it does,” interrupted the man; “it affects him 
in any case, because I am bound to see him served up 
by justice, if there is such a thing to be found in Eng- 
land. He is at his old tricks, and I know it, but, of 
course, you do not know it.” As he stopped then, to 
take breath, for the words had come rapidly and excitedly, 
his lips curved in a sarcastic turn, something that, for 
once, escaped the twinkling eyes; so with the curve still 
there he continued, “Of course, you do not know it ; so 
it may be I am doing you justice as well as trying to get 
it for myself, if I tell you who it is ; shall I } shall 1 ?” 

“Yes,” was all the astonished lawyer had a chance to 
say when his sightless visitor leaned forward and whis- 
pered, “ Dan Marplot !” in a hissing way, that told of the 
sting that had not lost its hurt. 

Here craft and cunning did each its best to be heard, 
but the one whom they served, listened not, and in 
amazement answered, “ Is it possible ?” Craft and cun- 
ning were not so much put to rout by this reply as they 
expected, for they saw they themselves could not have 
suggested a better; but they trembled for the next, and 
again began expostulations with their master for the 
headlong race they saw he was about to run. 

“ It is possible, and it is probable, and I really do not 
see that a man like him need to make a lawyer wonder 
at anything he might do,” the blind man continued, sink- 
ing back in his chair and stroking a very large beard in 
a very careful way — a very brown beard, of which it may 
be we have neglected to speak ; it seemed to be his pride, 
for he was often to be seen to smooth it and apparently 
adjust it, that is, it would be.called adjusting if — it had* 
been false. 

“To tell the truth,” began Trout in an apologetic 
manner for what might be to the man a .ack in him of 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 


333 


discernment of his client’s true character, “ I have not 
the most entire faith in his integrity, but this for which 
he has engaged me, is the recovery of property.” Craft 
and cunning disgusted at the utter neglect of themselves, 
went over to the enemy, and so assisted the blind man 
that he knew far more when he left than he had hoped 
to learn when he came in. 

“The recovery of property! the recovery of prop- 
erty !” mused the man, drumming on the arm of the 
leather-covered chair, and rubbing his foot against the 
dog, who had long been through with his investigations 
nasal, and had lain down at his master’s feet without in- 
dicating whether he was satisfied or not. “ H’m ! h’m ! I 
know him so well, I know him so well, h’m ! Has any 
one been sacrificed to recover that property and again 
the lawyer thought he saw a pair of eyes, not sightless, 
sharply fixed upon him. 

“ I hope not, I trust not ; to that I surely should not 
lend a helping hand,” came from Mr. Trout in such an 
honest disbelief of such a thing being possible that the 
man murmured to himself, “Very good, it is as I 
thought.” 

“But what you hope and trust, has no effect on the 
truth. Somebody who stood in his way was sacrificed 
long ago, and somebody will be again. Mark me, will 
be if you or somebody else does not look out for her. I 
know him so well, you see. He wronged me, and I am' 
not wronging him in revenge, but telling what is true.” 

Here might be a chance to get Marplot completely 
out of his way, so Mr. Trout, with craft and cunning 
deriding him, caught the bait, and asked, 

“ Who is in danger from him now } Who has been 
in his way ?” 

“ Margaret Ray, to your first question,” said the man, 
“ and her mother, to your second.” 

“ Why, she is my client, too,” returned the attorney, 
so puzzled at the turn of things,’ and so left to himself, 
that he kept on his race. 

“ I wish she could be something else,” sighed the vis- 
itor. “ 1 do not like to know of her being so alone and 
unprotected as I hear she is from Mr. Wallace. She 


334 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


stands between him and the Ray estate. Do you think 
a faithful lawyer attending to his interests outside, can 
protect he<r in a lodging-house at all hours ? She is in 
danger. I know him so well, I know him so well. But 
tell me, if you can, if you may without breach of faith, 
why both estates are not claimed for her at once, even 
long ago ? I will help, if I can, I will even sacrifice a 
little, if I can help defeat him — the vagabond ! Should I 
be at the corner of Lunley and the Wilton, asking and 
begging, if it were not for him ? But what he has taken 
from me, from my life, may not, cannot be brought back, 
so I will pursue him, even to the spending of Rover’s 
legacy, if needs be.” 

“ That,” broke in Mr. Trout, “would be unnecessary. 
I shall not require fee, for we will hope to recover enough 
for all” — still looking for a speck, an illusive one, too — 
this legacy. 

“But tell me,” cried the man eagerly, “tell me why 
you do not lay your claims at once, and not give him the 
chance to do harm ; for mark me, if he does do it, it will 
be so sly that you cannot tell how or when he does it. I 
know him so well.” 

“ Let me tell you, friend, since you seem to know 
so much of this affair, there is proof lacking, one link — 
the proof of marriage of her father and mother. The 
mother was lost, took the record of her marriage with 
her, and what a pity she had not been thoughtful enough 
to secure it for her child ; the church which held the 
records of the village births, deaths, and marriages, was 
unfortunately burned, and they were lost. No one can 
be found who witnessed the marriage, for there were, I 
believe, few guests. I have hopes, however, as I have 
sent a man for further search, that something may come 
to light soon. Think of the pity, sir, only one little 
paper lacking. I sometimes think it would not be 
wrong to keep it from dishonest hands. I sometimes 
think it would not be wrong to — to — ” the hand began 
a vigorous smoothing of the knee, with an occasional 
hitch to seek for the bit of dust, for the lawyer grew 
somewhat embarrassed at the prospect of putting in 
words what he thought it would not be wrong to do. 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS. 


335 


“To just see what could be done to make such a pa- 
per,” suggested the blind man so coolly that the lawyer 
was disarmed of all suspicion of danger from this re- 
vealing. 

“Exactly, exactly it,” Mr. Trout replied, glad evi- 
dently that somebody else had said it for him. 

“Just what I should think you would do,” returned 
the visitor in the same unmoved manner. “ The end, 
you might say, justifies the means.” 

“ So it does, so it does ; it is a pleasure, a great pleas- 
ure to know that another can so see it.” 

“ I think Mr. Wallace would be of my opinion, too,” 
and the blind man, as he said this, smiled faintly, or else 
a ray of the bright morning sun fell across his face ; at all 
events, there was a lighting of the features that expressed 
either the inward satisfaction of the man or the outward 
approval of the sun at what was transpiring in the private 
room of the honest and well-reputed, to whom it began 
dimly to occur, after he had sat some moments smooth- 
ing the already smooth and exact tie-strings, for he had 
endeavored to make himself careless and at ease after the 
blind man had brought his long pondered project to light, 
and so had suddenly withdrawn pursuit of the imaginary 
bit, and made an acute triangle of the upper part of the 
right leg with the entire part of the left bent at the knee, 
so without effort he could smooth the string’s loops; and 
while so doing, we say, it began dimly to occur to him 
that he had been quite too voluble with this stranger — a 
beggar at that — and it was better now the tables should 
be turned, that he might find out what more he knew, 
and how he knew about this case, these clients ; so, mak- 
ing no direct reply to the man’s last remark, he said, 

“ Mr. Wallace knew my fair client, and seems, like you, 
much interested in her, and feels that right should prevail ; 
and yet he has not, like you, a revenge to satisfy, has he.?” 

“ No, no ; he tells you the truth when he says he bears 
no malice to anyone ; he only asks for justice, and with 
justice to the lawful comer justice to the unlawful also.” 

“ Ah ! how well I know that Marplot.” The blind man 
said the last more to himself, apparently ; it was but one 
spring of the trap. 


336 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


“ Mr. Wallace does not seem to know him of late 
years,” said the lawyer, in a leading manner, but you do, 

I see, and almost fear him too, eh } “ That I cannot say 

I do, for I have him so in my power.” 

“ Indeed, indeed, do not be too sure of that ; he is a 
slippery cur, so wet always with the oozings which he is 
forever wiping off, that you may think you have him se- 
cure — when he is gone.” 

“True, with some,” laughed the lawyer blandly, as 
he replied, “ but I flatter, indeed I assure myself that I 
have a sure thing of it if he begins to squirm.” 

“I should like to feel assured that such is the case 
— but he is your client ; you are engaged to further his 
interests.” 

“ Ah, ah I no, only so far as this : he claims that the 
Margaret Ray is an illegitimate child of Richard Ray, 
and in that case, he becomes heir to the estate ; so it is 
only on that point that I am looking out for him. If it 
be so, then she can take Ivandale alone. But, you see, 
when I come to look closely,' I feel sure that even both 
are legally hers, and so I tell Marplot — I am frank with 
him, perfectly sq^ — I tell him his claim is lawfully pre- 
ceded ; yet he will retain me in spite of what I tell him, 
and says if I take the Ray estate, provided, of course, 
the marriage record be found, he will contest it, for he, 
knows Richard Ray could not legally call Mary Seebold 
his wife. That is the way we stand ; it looks odd to be 
called lawyer for both, but he is satisfied perfectly, sir, 
and I am led to do this for the sake of fair play. I am 
holding him at bay till I can gain ample evidence that 
she inherits both. He thinks I am waiting for official 
proof of Colonel Ray’s death ; but ah ! sir, I had that 
long ago. I want the marriage contract ; then both 
goodly estates are hers.” 

Ah, T rout, how fair your story ! how bland your 
smile ! how truthful your air ! how free your tongue to tell 
an almost stranger the points you were struggling with ! 
but did he believe you ? A sorry moment for you when 
craft and cunning, who had so long been your faithful 
attendants, had won for you in times past, the title of an 
honest and well-reputed lawyer ; had taught you to smile 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS, 


337 


with meaning and without ; had kept your lips so closed 
that a client could scarce get hold of your plan of de- 
fence or of attack, and thus given you the reputation for 
shrewdness ; had put questions upon your lips so rapidly, 
so sharply, that the testifiers of your opponent writhed 
under your plying, and burned under your sarcasm. A 
sorry moment for you, we say, when you drove them 
away, for now you have become dishonest openly, not 
covertly, as when under their tuition, for you talk freely ; 
glibly rolls from your tongue the secrets of your clients ; 
you smile, but it serves no purpose as it once did ; 3^ou 
require but little moulding from a skilful enemy, and you 
run on till something stops you. Why is this, oh, wily 
Trout .? You are not old, you have not lost yet the wits 
of hale, hearty manhood. We grant your heart is gone, 
but your sense, where is that? You gossip, not gather; 
you let out, not take in. 

It is a wise proposition, on your part, to leave your 
name and fame with Mr. Thump, and take yourself 
away, if this be the manner in which you are to main- 
tain your standing among your fellow attorneys, and 
the world at large. You have been trusted with weighty 
matters, gained many, lost few ; you have plead for 
clients far abroad, and near at home ; you might be to- 
day a barrister ; but you have looked forward to these 
very estates as a source of greater value, with less labor 
of brain, and more rest for your soft white palms. Why, 
again we ask is it, that you are toppling, weakening? 

^ Because, we answer, you cannot help yourself ; you 
are made to open your lips ; you are made to move 
them ; you are made to drive from you craft and cun- 
ning, who may return to you hereafter ; your means of 
making your bread will not be wholly taken from you ; 
you are made to play weak traitor, smiling simpleton, for 
right will assert herself ; slumber she may beneath turbid 
waters, rest she may where the sun shines hottest and the 
flowers bloom richest, but rise she must and has ; hand 
in hand with justice she has come, and together they 
made you what you are, a tool in their hands. 

I have searched,” continued he, “ amid documents 
placed here by the last Radnor, previous to one of his 


338 


THUMP'S, CLIENT. 


strange journeys. I have found contracts, but not the 
one I seek.” 

“ But it might aid you in what we proposed,” inter- 
rupted the blind man with the same coolness of manner 
at the mention of the project. 

“Ah, so it might, indeed so it might. How shrewd 
you are for a man without sight. I do indeed think you 
would prove a benefit to the profession — Ah, ah, so it 
might !” 

Let us look at the copy of the one yellow, tender, and 
musty, and see if this never occurred to you before, Mr. 
Lawyer. Here the fingers began uneasily and itchingly 
to make in the direction of the pocket where the copy 
had been hidden when the voices were heard without. 

“ Of the death of the Lord of Ivandale.?” queried the 
blind man.” 

“There is no doubt of it, none at all,” quickly re- 
turned the lawyer, as his face brightened ; it might be 
that he thought this also could be proved as well as the 
marriage. “ But there does not seem the necessary haste 
for this claim being put forward that there is for that of 
the Ray estate. The crown can seize it, too, but let the 
crown first show his death. Ah ! there is where I have 
the crown, you see,” rubbing his palms in content. 

“ I might, perhaps, in my way, help you in getting 
proof of it. I catch much gossip in my line. I could 
go to Wenham ; I used to live there. I there first knew 
my good friend Mr. Wallace ; years ago our acquaint- 
ance began, and he has served me many a good turn. If 
he had his way, I should not be at the corner of Lunley 
and the Wilton ; but I cannot be dependent, and I listen, 
listen for him, for Dan — for Dan Marplot,” the blind man 
hissed in the attorney’s face, while his own grew purple, 
“ and I follow him — yes, follow him, and I know more 
of him than he thinks. He lives in Poorly’s Resort. 
Rover knows the place. I am not afraid to go there ; 
my dog protects me. If Mr. Wallace knew him as well 
as I, he would not speak of him so coolly,” the words 
came so thickly that they tripped each other. 

“ But he does say he is sly, and — ” said Mr. Trout, 


TROUT AGAIN TOYS, 339 

who was interrupted by the blind man, as he flew into a 
still greater rage, crying, 

“ Sly, sly ! what of that ? Many a man is sly, but if 
you knew him as I know him, you could never find words 
to tell what he is. Better say what he is not. Sly, sly ! 
call him that if you choose, and nothing else, and see where 
your client will be some day when you go to find her. She 
is alone, innocent, unsuspecting — Sly, sly !” he began in 
another paroxysm. “ If I am gone from the corner, you 
will know, I seek for proof. I will see him in the hands 
of justice. He shall not have a shilling of old Major Ray’s 
— Sly, sly ! Rover ! come, come, lead me out, I am chok- 
ing. I want air ; lead me out, lead me out. Sly, sly !” 
and before Mr. Trout could intercept him, he was hurry- 
ing through the outer room and down the public stair- 
way, where he did not like to follow, as the man might be 
careless of his speech in such an angry mood. The dog 
hastened after his master, with leading-string dangling, 
'which was not taken till they both gained the street, 
where the man at once grew calm, and smiled as he pat- 
ted Rover, murmuring, “ We did that well, sir, very well. 
This is the best bait we ever floated for the Trout, and 
the best bite he ever gave it. We had to hurry out. If 
he had asked me for my claim upon something or some- 
body, could we have told him ? Could he get back our 
treasures. Rover? We will see; he will see. We did 
that very well.” And he hurried on out of the Lane, 
and on towards Jericho, but whether he reached there it 
matters not. 

Mr. Trout was left with the door of his private office 
in his hand, and the vague idea in his brain that the 
blind man had gone without leaving him a claim upon 
anything or anybody, or even telling him he had one ; 
so he turned back to the revolving chair, and drawing 
from his pocket the copy of the one yellow, tender, and 
musty, said to himself, “ He has a bad temper, that fel- 
low, yet he looks mild enough at the corner ; but I will see 
him again and get his claim before he has a chance to 
get mad. I think I have, just at present, all I can look 
after, and that will come in well when a few odd pounds 
are needed. I’ll have that, and all the rest. I see my 


340 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


way so clear now. This is well done. Ah ! who can do 
like the Trout, as they call me sometimes.?” 

While completing this soliloquy, he had touched a 
spring' under the table, before which the revolving chair 
turned, and obeying the touch, sprang to light a drawer, 
in which lay a paper, tender, yellow, but not musty — 
time, and not Trout could make it that. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A PROFITABLE “ WENTURE.” 

Mr. John Hansom left the clerk unaroused, undis- 
turbed, with quill tipped up from the paper, head upon 
hands and eyelids sealed — so softly did the ebony cane 
meet the ground ; so quietly did his feet seek their way 
out. He thus spoke to Owlie when they stood in the- 
Lane looking up and looking down, and much hesitating 
which way to go : “ Owlie, you are always wise ; now 
glitter, glisten, and burn if we shall go and see the woman 
who has the drowsy son. Let me see you, let me hold 
you up where the best light will strike you. Ah, how 
brigTit you are ! That will do. I find you know, Owlie, 
always know what to do. Let me see — Blue Bottle 
Court. Do we know where Blue Bottle is .? Ha, ha ! if 
some other people knew as much as we know, Owlie, 
how wise they would be. We go along this lane, do we 
not, Owlie !” and stump, stump, stump went the man, 
the cane, and the bird of gold perched upon the cane, 
till the three had reached the Wilton. 

“We do not see the blind man, do we, Owlie.? How 
Harold would laugh to see us look for him. It makes 
you pretty, too, and bright ; it makes your eyes sparkle. 

I like to see you look for him, you have heard so much 
about him, and never saw him, did you.? Well, you 
shall, you shall ; just give me time. Now, we go down 
the Wilton past Cheatem Street. Miss Polly Barley 


A PROFITABLE “ WENTUREP 


341 


lives there. You have heard of all these folks, Owlie, but 
you have never had a chance to see where they are to 
be found ; you so seldom get out, but the time is com- 
ing, I think, when you need not glitter, glisten, and burn 
so much in the dark, and by yourself. You will get out 
more soon among folks and be admired as you used to 
be. Here we are at Cross-Cut Lane ; the Boggs’ live 
there. Harold sells his gatherings there. He, he ! here, 
pretty bird, here is Chapel Street, where she lives, Mar- 
garet Ray. Did we tell Mr. Thump, our adviser — we 
have an adviser now, in this matter, remember, Owlie — 
did we tell him of her 2 No, we let him find out himself. 
That is what we fee’d him for, to find out for us. Let us 
stop a minute, Owlie ; I feel as if I were young again, I 
certainly do, and I do not just see why I should, do 
you Do you see anything with your sharp eyes Ha ! 
there it is, there is a reason for all things if we wait long 
enough. It is a bright face, a pretty face that has just 
turned the corner, and is coming to meet us ; it is hope- 
ful, too, and I am so glad it is. Look, Owlie, look your 
best, now, and your keenest. See the cherry knot, just 
the color, and the little bag over her arm — how many 
times I’ve carried it; no, not the bag, it was a basket 
then, but it had cherry knots on it somewhere — bows, 
maybe they call them — it had flowers, grasses, pebbles, 
anything that was pretty. I have known it to hold a 
little sick or lame bird, all wrapped in soft moss, and we 
have carried it between us till we reached her home, and 
then — well, never mind. Has it gone by us, Owlie, this 
face, these cherry ribbons ? Yes, it has. I did not look 
at it, but I felt a wind, a fragrant wind, such as used to 
blow over green fields, and I knew it must be she was 
passing. Now, Owlie, we will go on ; it may be I shall 
bear hard upon you now, for I feel weak, weary, maybe. 
I do sometimes, you know. We will turn the corner, too, 
and go down the Quinby to Mayfair, then off Mayfair — ” 
and so they walked ; he walked, and the cane stumped 
till they were under the large Blue Bottle, with its still 
larger red stopper, when who should step out of the open 
door, just under the Bottle, but Tom Barley. 

We say he stepped ; he put one foot up very high, and 


'342 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


he brought it down very low, and very slow, for he evi- 
dently expected to find the ground upon which to rest 
much sooner than he did, and did not seem surprised 
when it was there, but was surprised that it was no firmer 
in its foundation. Not learning by the experience of one 
foot, he put the other to a similar test of its locating 
powers, and with much the same, and it might be, to a 
person of nice discernment, even more erratic move- 
ments from the very high to the very low, till, like its 
mate and predecessor, it, too, was upon the ground. 
While either of these was in the air, it gave to Tom’s 
body a swaying movement, which seemed at that time, 
what it most needed to keep itself comfortably and some- 
what safely poised between the perpendicular and hori- 
zontal ; the former it could not maintain, and the latter 
it steered to avoid, but, of course, when the feet were 
down, and the natural sway gone, it had to resort to 
sundry dodgings between the door and the casement. 
Intuitively Mr. Barley felt he was in less danger when 
on one foot than on two, so he attempted again the 
bringing up of one, but he did it at an unlucky moment 
— as he was in the act of dodging forward, not back — so 
the other members being not on the alert to render as- 
sistance, he fell forward and rolled down the two short 
worn-away steps that led from the Blue Bottle tavern, 
and stopped short at the feet of Mr. Hansom, who rec- 
ognized him, and was exceedingly pleased to see him ; 
in fact, quite as much so as if it had been Marplot him- 
self ; and the exceeding pleasure lay in finding him 
drunk, not sober. 

Sober, Tom Barley was discreet, close-mouthed; 
drunk, Tom Barley was indiscreet, social, very. 

Marplot could tipple as well as Tom, but he never 
nursed a bottle till it knew more than he did ; he had 
too much at stake for that. 

As the doubled-up figure lay at Mr. Hansom’s feet, 
he held Owlie over it, and said, “ See that, see that ! 
you’ve heard of Mr. Tom Barley, brother of Miss Polly 
Barley. Here he is down, a little down, you see. We 
are very fortunate. If I thought it right, I would give 
the keeper of the Blue Bottle a crown for the pains he has 


A PROFITABLE “ WENTUREF 


343 


taken to start him in my direction, for he was started, 
I know ; he never has an original idea when he is on 
his way down ; but what makes this a clever hit, is the 
pains he always takes to let himself out, when he begins 
to come up. It is lucky, surely. Glitter, glisten, glow, 
and burn, Owlie, and show me what to do with- him. I 
do not quite see. I feel for him, indeed, so it will not 
do to take him to Cheatem Street ; Polly will shake, 
shake — Isaac told us how she does. Poor cur ! — a fly ! 
I will hail a fly; exactly, Owlie, you always know how 
to light me. I saw one coming along the Quinby, a 
short way behind us ; it must be, now — there, there it is ! 
Hi, hi ! here, here !” and along came the fly with a well- 
battered door, an intricately wrinkled covering, a driver’s 
seat more aslant than is allowable in a fly of good condi- 
tion anatomically and financially, drawn by a quadruped 
spavined in the knees, tender in the hoofs, bobbed at the 
tail, limited in vision, and not limberly jointed at the 
neck, handled through leathern ribbons stitched here 
and there where they had parted actually, or where in 
danger of doing so, and these ribbons were pulled first 
to the right, then to the left, then both together up, 
and both together down, as they caught the driver, who 
— in his eagerness to reach the passenger — ultimately, of 
course, the fare — now stood up and jerked, now sat down 
and jerked. But, poor fellow, he might as well have 
saved himself this exertion, or else have got out and 
pulled the fly himself, and let the quadruped come at 
his will, for the feeble, worn-out beast could only take 
so many steps to the minute, come what would — fire 
or flood, heat or cold, fog or sun, men drunk or sober, 
it was all the same with his gait, which was a walk, an 
amble, a limp ; not much of either alone, but a goodly 
amount of all taken together. 

The driver and owner of the quadruped and the fly 
we called a poor fellow, and so he was in body, in gar- 
ment, in purse, and, heaven be praised ! in family also ; 
for, since force of circumstances, condition of birth, or 
whatever it might be, decreed that his subsistence must 
be more scanty than was either agreeable to a gnawing 
stomach, or healthful to all those members dependent 


344 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


upon it, it must needs be a matter that calls for rendition 
of thankfulness that no one looked to him for food but 
the beast who longed and lacked enough already ; and 
it were a pity that half a score of growing mouths should 
have to early learn the hard necessity of sharing with 
him the longing and lacking. 

As they neared the call, “ Hi, hi ! here, here !” he 
saw the moving roll of humanity upon the ground ; saw 
the Blue Bottle with its open door, its two unevenly 
worn steps ; saw Mr. Hansom well dressed, benevolent 
looking ; saw the ebony cane, the golden bird with its 
glittering eyes, and thought such a fare as the surround- 
ings promised, had not been his for many a day ; no, not 
since the seat and the beast had taken such a decidedly 
downward tendency. As for himself, he had always been 
on an inclination, which, as years rolled on, was daily 
growing steeper, and glad he would be when he reached 
bottom, for then, although he never troubled himself to 
establish the fact — for then there would be a chance for 
him to*go up on the other side, if he would, without the 
jerking and coaxing, the pulling and pelting that he 
had found needful to take him down on this. 

He drew the leathern ribbons in such a way that the 
beast inferred that he was to draw near the curb, which 
he did, or as near to it as was consistent with the want 
of suppleness in his joints, and the frailness of the hold- 
ing together of the fly’s wheels ; then the driver stepped 
gently off at the side where the seat was highest, lest the 
other side find even the pressure of his light frame too 
much for its endurance, and suddenly slant beyond re- 
covery. Walked around the fly, and stood in front of the 
caller of himself and vehicle. 

“ ’Ere I be,” said he, as if he thought Mr. Hansom 
might doubt the fact of his arrival, so long had he been 
in coming. 

“ So I see ; yes, so I see. Do you think we can get 
him into the fly ?” asked the owner of the bird, point- 
ing down. 

“ Lemme see — not werry large, not werry,” he said 
stooping over the now sleeping Tom, and making a 
rough estimate of his weight. “ ’Er,” he nodded to the 


A PROFITABLE “ IVENTUREP 


345 


fly, “ and ’im,” he pointed to the beast, “ beent so werry 
well, to-day, but I reckons we’ll try, if you be so minded 
as to throw in a bit fur the wenture, eh ?” 

A little puzzled as to which risked the most, the 
quadruped or the vehicle, Mr. Hansom replied, looking 
first at one, then at the other, “ Which do you think is 
venturing the most ?” 

“ Hit be ’ard to tell, but I thinks summat more o’ the 
wenture comes on ’er, coz ye see ’im gits a bit o’ mendin’ 
with feedin’ and sleepin’, but I finds ’er in the mornin’ 
jes as I lef ’er the night afore — only hit might be a bit 
looser and more rackity. ’E’s,” glancing toward the 
drunken heap, “ ’e’s dead ’eavy on ’er hundervurks,” the 
driver explained, pointing to the wheels and whatever 
passed between them and the body of the conveyance. 
“ So hit be that makes me say ’er ’ll ’ave hit the ’ardest ; 
and if ye ’ud throw in fer ’er, we’ll ’eave ’im in,” and 
with this, he threw open the door of the fly, with an air 
of assurance that passengers would find the inner com- 
fort much greater than the outward look promised. But 
it might be noticed that he did not let the door swing 
back, as the driver of a strong, well-hung door would do, 
but held it very much as if it needed all the support he 
could give to enable it to ever close upon the occupants, 
and keep closed during their journey. But he suddenly 
bethought him that the old gentleman required some as- 
sistance with the “ ’eavin’ in,” and then the question at 
once arose, what was to be done with the door 1 Still 
holding it, he looked down and about him, and, stepping 
not so far away but that he could reach it with the dis- 
engaged hand, saw a large stick ; he bent down and drew 
it towards him, put one end of it on the curb, the other 
under the door, and thus propped, its owner ventured to 
release it. 

He had been so busily employed, that Mr. Hansom 
had no opportunity to complete the conditions of the 
ride, for the man was a little deaf, when one was near 
him, but it was always noticed he could hear a call for 
the fly at a goodly distance. 

There seeming to be nothing more to do, the owner 
of the golden bird said, “ I will make good all harm that 


346 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


comes to the horse or the fly, if you think you can take 
us to Jericho, with a halt at the Cross Bow. From May- 
fair to Friar’s Way, and then — ” 

“ I knows, I knows,” interrupted the driver, ‘‘ I lodges 
thereabout. I knows the way, mebbe, too well.” 

“ Then we will help him in, and be off at once. But 
see here,” and Mr. Hansom wiped his nose, to conceal 
the merriment he felt when viewing what he had just 
been pleased to term a horse — “ see here, if he takes us 
to Jericho, can he bring me back V' 

“ Yes, yes,” said the man quickly, alive at the pros- 
pect of another fare, “ if ye be in no great ’urry. ’E be 
as good a beast as ye kin find, in will, but ’e beent so 
werry. strong o’ wind — that be • the trouble, wind, wind. 
I cud git many a fare more’n I does, if ’e only ’ad more 
o’ that. But I gits down like summat, an’ feels ’e’s loosin' 
an’ not gainin’; if ’e drops hit an’ never gits hit agin, an’ 
the fly ud git too rackity to go, whot ’ud I do 'i ’er an’ 
’im no more’n keeps me alive now, an’ if so be they ud 
go — oh, oh ! It’s all a wenture, an’ a werry great wen- 
ture, I finds this livin’. Ye thinks other folks does well, 
an’ mebbe ye might till ye comes to try hit, too ; but I 
finds hit beent woth the trouble, an’ I thinks when ’er 
an’ ’im goes. I’ll jes go, too, an’ say no more ’bout hit.” 

Having thus settled the subject he had been a mo- 
ment ago so mournfully considering, he brightened, and 
added in a business-like way, “ ’Ead or ’eels, sir ?” and 
without waiting for a reply, he said quickly, “ as the ’orse 
an’ the fly be both takin’ wentures on ’im, I will too,” 
and he seized Tom Barley’s feet, and gave him such a 
jerk that he made a slight effort to free himself from the 
grasp, which he was too drunk to realize whether it was 
where it should be, on his collar, or not. 

“ Hit beent so great as I hexpected,” he said to him- 
self as he found the opposition to the grasp and jerk 
soon ceased. “ Hare you reddy, sir } I ’ave the ’eels.” 

“Yes, yes,” cried Mr. Hansom, straightening up and 
making himself a much taller man than one would ex- 
pect to find from one so bent. “ I have his head, Owlie ; 
show us the way to you.” He had placed the ebony 
cane inside the fly, both for security and good luck. 


A PROFITABLE '^WENTUREr 


347 


Eave heasy ; now, sir ! let ’im down so 'er hiinder- 
vurks ’ll bear. There!” up comes Barley, “there,” he 
swings back a little from the fly to get momentum — 
“there,” and he is in — “there,” and he is down. Mr. 
Hansom got in after, and as the driver unpropped the 
door, said, “Ye be a bigger, stronger man ’n ye looks.” 
To this Mr. Hansom made no reply ; he was easing 
Tom a little. The door was swung gently to, the stick 
secured under the seat, for use upon arrival at Jericho. 
The man went around the fly, and climbed up on the tilted 
end, took up the leathern ribbons ; the quadruped turned 
around and looked at him as if for orders, which came 
in the pull and “ up, now,” which latter was not obeyed to 
the letter, for however desirous he might be of so doing, 
he found it impossible, his time not having come. He 
went on, not up, till Cross Bow was reached, where Mr. 
Hansom secured an inside seat in the up coach, for Mr. 
Thump. This and sundry other rests for fresh supplies of 
wind, or what was necessary for making it, and between 
these rests, almost constant coaxing, pulling, and even 
threatening by the driver, he drew the fly, in an appar- 
ently uninjured condition, in front of the door whose 
sign above promised refreshment to all who would stop. 

Mr. Hansom stepped out, entered the inn, as if he 
was one who had often listened to the swinging injunction, 
and after a few words with the hostess, appeared, accom- 
panied by a muscular hostler and a grinning, but quite as 
sturdy “ boots,” from a neighboring coach-yard, both of 
whom, careless of the fly’s infirmities, reached in, and 
partly stepped in, and drew out Tom Barley, still drunk, 
still asleep, and still stupid. The door was the only 
thing the driver could keep them from bearing too heav- 
ily upon, and this he did by standing by it and holding 
it very firmly. Mr. Hansom followed the carriers, and 
had their burden put in the room that the hostess assured 
him, with a merry laugh, belonged to his friend, Mr. Wal- 
lace, had it laid upon the bed, covered, and left. He re- 
turned, ordered the horse detached from the fly, and saw 
it led away to be well, but not over-fed, rubbed down, 
and made as comfortable as it could be. 

The fly he ordered off to the nearest smithy to get 


348 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


what repairs it could in an hour’s time. The driver he 
bid enter, where they soon found before them a well- 
spread table, for which we have before said Jericho was 
famed, by the few who knew of it. 

The ale was drank ; the lamb, the roast, the potatoes, 
the bread, the butter, the pudding, the everything set 
before them, was eagerly partaken of. Mr. Hansom had 
eaten little during the day ; the driver had eaten little 
during his whole life ; the one ate heartily, the other 
ravenously. 

“ Hit be so werry, werry” — the knife, heavily laden, 
was lost sight of nearly to the blade — “ good, thet I 
feels,” the fork took its turn, and conveyed a large piece of 
lamb, nearly half a potato, and a small onion as apex of the 
pyramid, into the yawning chasm — as he was struggling 
for the cutting of these into not over three parts before 
beginning their swallowing together, or separately, just as 
they happened to present themselves to the palate, he 
continued, “ Summat like a man that be’s in luck; but 
I never feds it afore, an’ never thinks ! will agin.” He 
had been enabled to deliver thus much at one time, be- 
cause a bit of potato on its way to being digested, hav- 
ing come to a narrow passage at the same time with the 
small onion, neither would give way till a draught of ale 
settled the dispute by taking them both with it, and find- 
ing the ale of a flavor and foam never before met with, 
he laid down knife and fork, and clasping both hands 
around the mug, as if his luck and it might betake them- 
selves away, drained it of its last drop. 

“ I doesn’t calls hit so wenturesum cornin’, now 
does I V' 

I hope you will find it much to your advantage,” 
returned Mr. Hansom, who found great delight in see- 
ing him satisfy his hunger, although it was not done 
according to the dictates of good breeding, especially 
when he drew his rough and dirty coat sleeve across his 
mouth, and caught on it balls of the foam, mixed with 
cold clod-like bits of the lamb sauce, which the ale had 
congealed. 

;‘Hit seems werry much like so far,” came from a 
rapidly filling mouth— for knife and fork had again re- 


A PROFITABLE “ WENTUREP 


349 


sumed work, pitch and toss, toss and pitch ; whichever 
was loaded first, got the first chance to unload, till the 
dishes had been cleared, and mug after mug emptied. 
Soon after the meal began, the man was seen to unbutton 
his coat, which had been held quite tightly together, no 
doubt to keep his stomach from asserting too boldly its 
needs, for it had thus been kept cramped when it was 
hollow ; not long after, his waistcoat gave way of its 
own accord — its buttons, no doubt, were held on by 
tender threads, and upon even yet more tender cloth, 
and before it was finished, the upper holding of his 
breeches was so borne upon that he was forced to lean 
back, draw in his breath, and before he had time to com- 
ply with its demands, the button took upon itself the 
liberty of popping off, and flying to the farthest corner 
of the room. Thus, the first receptacle of the food, after 
it had passed the mouth, had full play, and it filled, and 
stretched in the filling, till it could hold no more. Mr. 
Hansom would have called for mofe, but the man’s look 
of “ 'ave mercy !” — he was for a time, past speaking — 
made him forbear to tempt him ; so they sat still for a 
time, the former reading from a paper he had taken from 
his pocket, the latter nodding in sleep, and when he 
could speak, murmuring to himself, “ Summat lucky; 
werry, summat.” 

Owlie had been overlooking it all by the side of her 
master’s chair, and had evidently approved, for she 
glittered and glistened. By and by the fly came along, 
drawn by the smithy’s boy, who, besides presenting the 
bill, also presented a message from his master to the 
effect that the fly was made of good stuff, and if the 
owner could give him time, he* could make it as good 
as new. 

“ Tell him he shall have it as soon as it can be spared,” 
said Mr. Hansom, without once consulting, or even look- 
ing toward the man, who had come out, and stood with 
admiring gaze, hands in pocket and hat knocked back, 
that nothing should shade his vision. The bill for the 
repairs of an hour was promptly paid, with a new shil- 
ling put in the hand of the boy for the pull from the 
shop. The horse was brought from the stable, clean, well 


350 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


rubbed, but not sleek — he was past that, poor fellow — and 
with a shadow of his youthful roguishness in his eye, 
he turned to his master for orders, but none came. His 
heart was now full, fuller even than his stomach had 
been, and, as he climbed up on the seat without a slant, 
a tilt, or a downward tendency of any kind, Mr. Hansom 
saw tears falling down his cheeks, and the coat-sleeve 
wiped them away from nose and eyes, too, before he 
could see where lay the leathern ribbons. 

“ Those are all the thanks I need,” said that benevo- 
lent gentleman to Owlie, as he closed the door himself, 
for the owner, in trying to conceal his emotion, had for- 
gotten it — strange, too, for it had long been to him a sub- 
ject of so much solicitude. Away they went, the horse 
even essaying, now and then, a trot, but short-lived 
though it was, it showed his good intentions and his 
gratitude to somebody — he could not well make out who 
it was, the driver or the rider. The fly, with oil in her 
joints, rivets in her springs, a new hinge in her door, re- 
sponded most cheerfully, agilely, to the horse’s extra ex- 
ertions, and before Mr. Hansom could think it possible, 
remembefing how long they had been before in going, he 
was set down opposite the Blue Bottle, with its stilLopen 
door, from which came odors — savory to some. 

“ ’Ere ye be, sir,” said the man, opening the fly’s 
door, and yet without the freedom that the knowledge 
of one entire new hinge, and a re-setting of the old should 
have lent. 

“ So I see, so I see. Come, Owlie, come now, glitter, 
glisten, glow, and burn ; somewhere I feel as if there was 
something coming that needed your light. Let us go 
and see the woman whose son was so drowsy — Ah, yes, 
let us catch her before he has a chance to tell her we 
may drop in on her. There is nothing like it, Owlie, 
this going when we are not expected.” 

By this time the bent form of Mr. Hansom had bent 
itself a little more, and emerged from the conveyance, 
which began to look as if it had self-respect, and would, 
its benefactor knew, soon, under the smithy’s hand, be 
ready to play the part of a well-running, genteel trans- 
porter of pedestrians, tired out in brain, worn out in 


A PROFITABLE “ WENTUREP 


351 


body, or given out in legs, the last like poor Tom, who 
was still sleeping and snoring, with sensibility double- 
locked by ale and gin, layered and mingled. 

“ If you find a fare that does not take you long or 
far away, do not lose it,” said the passenger to the driver, 
when he and the bird were upon ground. “ If not, waif 
for me here, and I shall need you to take me back, it may 
be, if the horse can make the journey again.” 

“ Haw, haw !” laughed the man ; “ now, sir, 'e could 
go hany distance, ’e be so free in the strings. I ’ad ’ard 
work to fetch ’im along quiet like ; I thought once ’e 
might run, I did, sir ; an’ lemme tell ye from ’im an’ me 
both, that we be only too glad to fetch ye warsumever ye 
wants to go.” 

Upon this declaration of good-will by proxy and not, 
the quadruped looked at Mr. Hansom, as if he would 
say, “ He states the case truly, precisely,” while the man 
bowed, or tried to, as best his full stomach would admit 
of his doing, and stump, stump, stump went the ebony 
cane around the corner and along the court till it had 
reached the same door that Samuel and Meg passed 
through days after — the latter on an errand of mercy, 
the former on an errand of love. Up the same tumbling 
flight, but not to the same room ; that was not occupied 
then, it awaited a new-comer into it, and a troubled goer 
out of it and out of the world. Mr. Hansom rapped at 
the door they had passed by. 

“ Come in, come in,” a feeble, not a complaining 
voice, replied. 

He obeyed the request, and stood in a small, low, 
plainly furnished, neatly kept room. A chair made easy 
by the hands of love, that at the same time did not lack 
skill, held the bidder to “come in.” She was slight of 
frame, pale of face, save where the tell-tale hectic flushed ; 
she had in her hand a needle threaded with white, and 
with which she now and then took a stitch in the neatly 
trimmed patch she was putting upon a shirt, that the 
visitor saw must belong to the drowsy clerk. If it had 
been a soft, creamy material, into which she now and 
then put the needle, one might surely have said she was 
making her shroud, especially, when ofttimes the draw^- 


352 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


ing out of the thread brought a stab, which, in turn, 
brought a cough that sometimes caused the quick lifting 
of the handkerchief, for fear of what might come with it 
— the so much to be dreaded hemorrhage. 

The woman supposing it might be Miss Thump — she 
was so busy with her own thoughts that she had not 
heard the stunap of the cane on the stairs — seemed quite 
surprised to see before her the kindly looking, long 
bearded face of a stranger. 

“Ah !” said she attempting to rise, “ I did not think 
it was a new visitor.” 

“ Sit still, ma’m, sit still,” returned Mr. Hansom mo- 
tioning her back into the chair. “ I will just say good 
day, and sit down here,” and he dropped into a low seat 
partially in front of the woman, took off his hat, adjusted 
the curls and the beard, and being apparently satisfied 
that neither was awry, stood Owlie in front of him, where 
he could turn her upon the hostess for inspection if he 
needed, or upon himself for light to proceed, without 
being detected. 

“ I came, ma’m, because your son looked as if I 
might do you some good. He said you were sick. I 
know I have found the place and person, because he 
looks like you. And that garment,” he pointed to the 
shirt, “ is mate to the one he has on ; and so, you will 
see, ma’m, I am observing, very, and very seldom de- 
ceived — in fact, I might say never. Now I will not worry 
you with my talk, or weary you with my presence ; first 
because you are not well, and second because I am a 
very busy man, and do what I have — no, not what I have, 
what I want to do, and go. Now, I want to help you, 
and I shall, ma’m, and see no better way of doing it than 
by just laying this in your lap, and saying, ‘ Good day, 
good day, ma’m.’ I shall call again,” and before the 
woman had time to say even “ God bless you, sir,” Mr. 
Hansom had stumped the ebony cane out of the room, 
closed the door softly but quickly, and was nearing the 
bottom of the flight, where he stopped, assured himself 
again of the exact position of curls and beard, put on his 
hat and apologized to Owlie for not having given her a 
chance to light him. “You see,” said he, “1 could not 


A PROFITABLE “ WENTUREP 


353 


keep myself from doing just what I did, Owlie. But why 
did I do it ? That I do not know, Owlie ; indeed I do 
not. But it may be because talking would worry her 
worse. It does some sick folks, Owlie, you know. How- 
ever, I .do not think she will mind my sudden going 
when she looks in her lap and sees what I left there,” 
and the mongrel curls shook with the glee of their wearer 
while he walked towards Harold’s one-storied dwelling, 
where, as he came in front of it, he stopped and said, “ I 
can accommodate my friend Mr. Wallace, if I take his 
dog along with me ; it will save him a walk to-night, eh, 
Owlie ? You know him, Owlie ? yes, of course you know 
him and the dog too. Let us see if he will come,” and 
with the stumping end of the ebony he pushed open the 
door which was off the latch, on purpose for the conve- 
nience of the dog, if he should be called for, and he gave 
a low peculiar whistle, which was scarcely begun and 
surely not finished when out bounded Rover pleased to 
see who awaited him, and quite as glad to get away from 
dearie, whom he had not even turned back to look at. 
Mr. Hansom closed the door tightly, and it secured itself 
by the down-springing lock. The corner was turned 
first by the dog, then by cane and golden bird, then by 
Mr. Hansom ; the quadruped still in excellent spirits for 
one in his years and infirmities, the fly looking abler and 
stronger every moment, the driver whose dinner had be- 
gun to digest, and thus relieve him of the fulness that 
comes of a too hearty meal, looking better satisfied with 
himself and the world in general, and more especially 
with his “wenture” in particular, awaited them. The 
man and the bird stepped, and the dog leaped into the 
fly, and all duly reached where Tom Barley still slept 
until an hour after Mr. Thump took the Cross Bow coach 
and was dreaming happy dreams as the horses carried 
him rapidly out of London and on to Wenham. 

The woman who had risen to try and detain her ec- 
centric visitor found the exertion too much for her, and 
sank back in her chair. When the pulse was stronger, 
the head less dizzy, and the hand firmer in its touch, she 
took up the little parcel, opened it, and lo ! a ten-pound 
note. With closed eyes, her head fell back on the chair, 


354 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


her lips moved in gratitude and a “ Thank God ” was 
audible. 

She told her boy when he came home, and she told 
Susan Thump when she came next day, bringing with 
her Meg, who thus found her, and afterwards was herself 
found ministering to her comfort. Her boy knew the 
donor and gave his name. For this reason Meg had said, 
“ Why, that is the one she calls for !” And as Mr. Wallace 
heard it he said to himself, “ Mr. Hansom shall call.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

TREATS OF MEG, “ UNCLE,” AND SAMUEL. 

Mr. Hansom knew’ when Mr. Thump returned, but 
the time was not quite come to see him. 

This fact of his not being prompt to call somewhat 
annoyed Mr. Thump, so when the blind man had given 
him hope of its nearness he was better pleased. We have 
said that upon the day earlier in our story, when Mr. Wal- 
lace and Mr. Marplot called upon Mr. Trout, the younger 
member bore away papers in his hand, an idea in his 
brain, a suspicion in his heart ; that the first were made 
immediate use of, that the last two — well, we will see what 
became of them. The idea was not of much form at first, 
but as Mr. Trout’s scheme grew in favor with himself it 
began to assume some proportions, till Mr. Thump be- 
came quite satisfied without much tangible proof as a 
background, that his partner was engaged in a case he 
had been dishonorable enough to keep exclusively in his 
own hands, and from certain flourishes of his quill at 
leisure moments as if practising a particular letter, curve 
or quaver, he became suspicious that he was also con- 
templating the making of some name that it was not his 
legal or moral right to do ; so, when Mr. Hansom laid his 
case before him, and asked him to take it in the name ot 
the unfound client, he was not much surprised that he 
had reached foundation for his suspicion. 


MEG, uncle;' and SAMUEL. 


355 


He went to Wenham — more, he went to Ivandale. 
The first he entered, lingered in and left ; the last he did 
not enter, for it was locked. Where was the key? and 
where was his right to use it or break the barrier ? So 
again to Wenham, where he gleaned still more than he 
did before, and then back to Mother Susan, to Meg, to 
the cottage. Susan was there, the cottage was there, but 
Meg was at home. His stay had been longer than she 
expected it would be when he started, and she saw Peleg 
was unhappy and gloomy at her tarry beyond the prom- 
ised time ; so one morning when he called to see the 
“child,” and try to “git ’eaded right,” she left the room 
suddenly and soon came back with hood and mantle on, 
knitting in bag — she had commenced something anew. 
The sprig and its dot for a falling berry she never knit 
again, the pattern was to her sacred now as was a cover- 
ing upon the altar of the High Priest when Israel’s chil- 
dren bowed before it. — Beside the knitting she had a 
package of such things as were needful to her comfort. 

“ Mother Susan,” said she, “ I must leave you,” and a 
sob would have broken forth if she had not choked it 
down. There was the stool on which Samuel sat that 
afternoon ; there was the cup with the gilt filagree which 
she had used while he was away, at the especial request 
of Mother Susan ; there were the books she had read be- 
cause she knew he had read them; there was the softly 
stuffed pillow in one corner of the high-backed sofa 
where she had rested her head after the long talks which 
she and Mother Susan had about the who she was and 
the why she should and should not be Susan’s daughter, 
till the first was satisfactorily answered ; there was the 
polished tea-urn that the maid had not yet removed, out 
of which she had turned tea for Samuel that night when 
he found himself so suddenly fond of the beverage. All 
these told each its story, spoke each its farewell — for a 
time only t — she dare hope that much — for a time. 

“ Meg,” began Miss Thump, “ you promised to stay, 
you know till — ” 

“ Yes, Mother Susan,” interrupted Meg, while a deep 
blush spread over her face and neck, which was not un- 
noticed and unnoted by Mr. Hamper, who looked happy 


356 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


at the prospect of having “ the child ” home again, “ but 
I see uncle needs me — Not a word against it, uncle, I 
won’t hear it,” and she stamped her little foot just as she 
used to when the frock was not much below the knee and 
the white collar was a white ruff — for Peleg began to show 
signs of remonstrance, for the sake of appearance, against 
the breaking of a promise. ‘‘ Mr. Th — Samuel, I mean,” 
she continued drawing the hood at the corner to give a 
chance for relieving embarrassment, “ will soon be home. 
You know he said in his last letter that we might look for 
him by the last of the week. It is now Wednesday, that 
is the middle, and I would dearly love to stay and keep 
you company, and would, if I thought you needed me 
more than uncle ; but I see how wishful he looks for 
Meg, and Meg couldn’t stay and be happy,” and she drew 
near and smoothed the neckerchief with which Mr. Ham- 
per, with the assistance of Martha and the suggestions 
of Gaff had encompassed his neck — the same one he had 
worn into that little parlor once before, when the curtains 
were drawn and voices were hushed. Then he had a 
dickey to relieve its monotony, but the present success- 
ful or even partially successful surmounting of it by this 
purely ornamental article of wear was more than either 
of the above aiders and abettors in the cause of the ker- 
chief dare undertake. Meg saw the knot was at one side 
and too loosely drawn under and too tightly put over, but 
she would not have them known by Mother Martha — the 
deficiencies of that knot, or of other things she was quick 
to detect in the general get up of Mr. Hamper, with whose 
everyday apparel she had little hand, but in case of a 
dress up of any sort she dealt largely in its arrangement. 

“ Mr. Hamper,” began Susan Thump, “ I see she 
wants to go, and I won’t say anything against it ; but 
will you promise me *that she may come again. Meg 
don’t see young folks enough.” 

“ Miss Thump, ma’m, I feels what ye say, an’ ud be 
glad if things warn’t jist as they be ; but I feels, ’opes, 
ma’m, ’opes. I can’t alius tell war they come from, but 
they comes, an’ Meg ain’t alius goin’ to be a Wrecker — ” 
and having thus thrown out a buoy, without any particu- 
lar cause, Mr. Hamper stopped suddenly, and grasped 


MEG, uncle;' and SAMUEL. 


357 


for his hat, which he had, after sitting for some time, 
taken from his head, and put on the floor beside him. 
He grasped for it, and he grasped so far beyond it that it 
might be supposed tliat he had repented throwing out the 
buoy, and so was about to haul it in, but the truth was, 
the slightest allusion by himself or anyone else to the part- 
ing with Meg, so filled his eyes, that things were distorted 
under his vision, for he looked through a veil of tears ; 
after having parted this veil by vigorous winks which 
folded it into two drops, and these being deposited, as he 
came nearer the hat, into its crown, he saw Meg was pen- 
cilling a tiny note, which she put between the leaves of a 
well-worn book upon the table. Not quite comprehending 
this, for “ Sister Martha ” had said nothing to him of her 
suspicions and their confirmation, he scarcely heard 
Miss Thump’s reply — 

“ I hope she will not, and I hope you will not either, 
Mr. Hamper,” she added, by way of reconciliation, lest 
he might feel that she regarded the Wreckers as a most 
unfit place for dwelling. “ I have hopes, too.” 

Here he began to listen, for Meg had closed the book 
and was drawing on her gloves, biting her lips, and try- 
ing to look quite unconscious of what hopes Miss Thump 
referred to. 

“ An’ if they be so great as mine fer the child, they be 
good, an’ all she will need fer the rest o’ the pull in life,” 
said Hamper, rising and laying his great hand softly on 
the girl’s shoulder. “ Now, Miss Thump, I must tell ye, 

I feels under a cargo o’ thanks fer this tow o’ Meg in 
pleasant water. I see she be brighter fer it, an’ I prom- 
ise to fetch ’er agin.” 

“ And let her stay longer,” added Miss Thump, with 
a merry twinkle in her sharp eyes, as she took both Meg’s 
hands, kissed her on either cheek, then on the lips, then 
pointing to the book, said, “ I will see to it, dear.” 

The girl returned the demonstrations of Susan with 
sincerity, looked once more at all the things that spoke to 
her, and with uncle, whom she knew had in times past 
made many sacrifices of his comfort for her happiness, 
stepped off the porch, out of the gate, along the Lane, by 
the blind man’s corner, where she stopped, and threw 


358 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


into his hand a few pence, received a fervent blessing 
from him, a lap and leap from the dog, and walked on, 
chatting to Peleg, till they reached the court. 

“ Uncle,” said she, when they were at the door, “ I 
must visit awhile with Mother Martha, and you, mean- 
time, put on your river rig — you will feel more at home — 
and we will take a row in Snatcher, If there is a breeze 
we will put up the sail, as we used to, that is, if it does 
not interfere. The air is good this morning, the sun 
bright, and it will be cold soon, so I cannot go again till 
spring.” 

“ Why, Meg, that be good. I’ll rig Snatcher, an’ rig 
myself, an’ when ye gits reddy, come down to the quay. 
We’ll be waitin’. Snatcher’ll be glad to take ye, I knows. 
She alius dances, I thinks, a bit more when she sees ye, 
child.” 

The sun shone warmly, lovingly ; the breeze was 
what it should be under the circumstances — a zephyr 
almost, at least it was not lively enough to play hide and 
seek with the sail and the shifter of it, and it was not so 
gentle but that Snatcher moved along without much help 
from the one paddle Peleg held, so, if it could not be 
called a zephyr, it might be named a most considerate 
and well-mannered breeze. As for the water, it was 
clear, placid, inviting, as it had never been before. It 
ceased its washing, washing, and one might suppose it 
had never hidden the victims of wrong, of treachery, of 
avarice. Now, all this might really have been, and it 
might not have been so only in the imagination of Meg, 
to whom everything looked its happiest, for she had a 
secret to tell Mr. Hamper, and Mr. Hamper had heart 
and ear to listen to it. They went straight out to mid- 
stream first, then up where Meg talked merrily of every- 
thing but the one she wanted him most to know ; then, 
the breeze having listened in vain for the telling, changed 
its course, and blew down stream, which caused the tack- 
ing about of Snatcher so much that it was deemed best 
to turn her about and let the breeze take them along the 
same way, so down they sailed. 

Meg, beginning to grow embarrassed, dipping her 
hands in the water on one side, and carrying what they 


MEG, UNCLE,” AND SAMUEL. 


359 


could hold to throw over on the other, and getting less 
and less chatty, more and more thoughtful ; past the 
quay the breeze took them, and down with a hearty will, 
till they were just about where they had anchored, or 
rather floated, years before, when Peleg had something 
to tell, and told it ; but now, as Meg had the something, 
there seemed little prospect of her following the bold ex- 
ample of Snatcher’s captain. The breeze, either tired of 
listening, tired of waiting, or tired of blowing, it could 
not tell which — breezes are so fickle— suddenly took itself 
away where it was more to be appreciated, or else lay 
quietly down under the water’s surface to wait for more 
of its fellows, and rise in the night as a squall — it is dif- 
ficult to determine Just where such fillers of canvas go, 
but it is never difficult to tell, that they have gone, and 
leave a dead calm and a resort to the paddles necessary. 

Mr. Hamper took down the small sheet, folded it, and 
put it under Meg’s feet. The sun, it might be, was in 
league with the breeze, to force the secret out, for scud- 
ding clouds, now and then, intercepted his warmest and 
brightest rays ; the waters, however, still looked inviting. 
After Mr. Hamper resumed the strokes, Meg could see 
him better, and at last she said, not carrying the water 
over this time, but holding it up in the bottoms of her 
hands, and letting it trickle through her fingers. 

“ Uncle, you said you hoped I would not always be a 
Wrecker ; what would you think if I should tell you some- 
body hopes I may be persuaded to be a Lunley some- 
time.?” She turned her face away and her hands were 
still, save when the boat’s motion carried them along. 

He knew something like it must come some day, but 
he had hoped it might not be till after she was of age, 
and “ knew o’ ’er bein’ born,” as he often termed the fact 
of ascertaining her origin. He had thought of Samuel 
and was pleased ; he had thought of the Lane and was 
not so well pleased. “She war bred fer suthin’ better,” 
he always said to himself, ‘ an’ the Lane ain’t so fer up 
from the court as un might wish.” He kept this to him- 
self, for he saw Meg’s happy look, and he remembered the 
note put into the book, and the merry twinkle in Susan’s 
eye — yes, he saw it all now, and just as he was about to 


360 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


answer, he saw Jane, a not very young, but a hale, hearty, 
rosy cheeked little woman, and heard her — ‘‘ 1 be of the 
same mind, Peleg it brought back a warmth to his heart 
and gave a little tremor to his voice as he leaned forward 
and touched her on the knee saying, “ It be Samuel 
Thump, Meg, child ? 

“ Yes, uncle, I did not say if you were willing, for I 
knew you would be, but — ” 

“ And ye knowed right, child, right,” interrupted Mr. 
Hamper, shading his eyes with his great tawny hands, 
and looking earnestly along the water. One might have 
thought he was on the wide open sea scanning the hori- 
zon for the sail of deliverance, so anxious and far away 
was his look, and that he saw it for Meg ; but he thought 
not then for himself, unless it were from a craft such as 
took Jane beyond mortal ken. 

“There is a ‘but,’ uncle. You did not hear the 
‘ but^’ did you ?” Meg softly asked, reaching so that 
one hand not now in the water was laid upon that near- 
est her, the other was through shading and now held the 
paddle. 

“ O’ what use be un o’ them, Meg .? They be pesterin’ 
things, an’ if I war Mr. Samooel I wouldn’t let ye ’ave 
’em — ‘but,’ ‘if,’ Jane said sometimes, but she never said 
’em when I said will ye be Jane Hamper.? No, she 
knowed afore then I didn’t like ’em, an’ she war afraid 
she might let slip ’er anchor if she did. She said, ‘ I be 
steerin’ fer the samp port, Peleg,’ or leastwise that war 
what she meant. I ’ad the words a bit ago, but they 
flashed off agin. Well, ye don’t want to ’ear o’ Jane an’ 
me, Meg, ye wants me to ’ear of ye and Samooel. Now, 
tell me about the ‘ but,’ ” and’ Mr. Hamper drew in so 
much of the paddle as would keep it from falling over- 
board, and laid the hand thus freed gently upon hers, so 
with her little hand between both of his, the girl knew 
she could talk her heart ; and she did. 

Again the sun sent 'his warmest, brightest, softest 
beams to listen ; again the water was clear and quiet 
only when it heaved now and then a little sigh as it lis- 
tened, but the heaving only gave a gentle rocking motion 
to Snatcher, and saved her from drifting too far ; the 


MEG, UNCLE," AND SAMUEL. '361 

breeze still kept itself elsewhere, and Meg kept not back 
a word, a thought, or a hope. When she had told them, 
^nd Mr. Hamper had responded with all the encourage- 
ment he dare extend, at her nod, he took up the paddles 
and pulled up to the little quay and as he “ heaved ” 
Snatcher’s pretty cargo, he said, “ I be goin’, Meg, to set 
full sail fer this port ye want open, an’ don’t ye be worrit, 
child, but what we’ll clear the water to it.” 

“ How can I ever do enough for you, uncle Hamper.? 
for all you have done for me, a poor little wanderer ; and 
still more shall I say, ‘what can I do,’ if you help me to 
find out who I am ?” whispered Meg when safely landed. 

“ Never mind, now, jest ye be cheery an’ don’t ye be 
too chillin’ to Samooel about the ’ope o’ reachin’ the 
port,” returned the captain of Snatcher as he secured 
her to the anchorage and made ready to follow Meg, who 
had turned on a few steps toward the main street, from 
off which ran the court. 

It was this talk of the heart that made Mr. Hamper 
declare upon the night Mr. Wallace secured the prize 
from Gaff, his purpose of seeking an interview with him, 
and for which he was only waiting to make sure through 
the blind man that a Journey to Jericho would not be in 
vain ; and the morning after the announcement to Mr. 
Wallace he felt impelled to try, at all events to ask the 
mendicant; and, accordingly, when he sought him, he 
found him not ; he was with Mr. Trout, so he turned 
away troubled in mind, heavy in heart, and was well on 
his way to the Quinby when he heard alight manly tread 
behind, as if somebody was hurrying on upon him. He 
turned, and as he did so a hat was raised to him with 
quite as much respect as if it were honoring a “ Sir 
Peleg,” and not the clumsy, uncouth captain of Snatcher, 
and trimmer and owner of Pryer. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Hamper,” said the voice under 
the uplifted hat. ^ 

“ Why Sa — Mr. Thump, good mornin’,” and the 
broad ill fitting hat of Mr. Hamper was knocked, not 
raised— he never attempted it after he so signally failed 
in endeavoring to do honor to the good mother of his 
present saluter. ' 


362 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


Three quick steps brought the younger by the side of 
the elder, and the rejoinder from the former, “ I am glad 
to see you, which way are you going ?” • 

“ Well, it don’t make a deal either way. I be walkin’ 
much, ’cause I feels oneasy like, an’ it beent time o’ tide 
to paddle, so I says, ‘ Peleg ye better look aloft a bit 
so ’ere I be. Which way might ye be ’eaded ?” came 
from Mr. Hamper, who had slackened his pace. He 
knew well Mr. Thump’s business with him. 

“ I am like you, Mr. Hamper,” returned the legal 
gentleman. “Business was not brisk this morning, and 
I took the chance to get a breath of the bracing air.” 

“ But ’ow does ye know but while ye be gone the tide 
might turn an’ the wind blow a gale ! There be nothin’ 
like bein’ on deck,” said Peleg, with an eye on the atten- 
tive qualities of the young man to his profession. To 
himself he added, “ That beent much Miss Thump’s way 
o’ pullin.” Already he began to take bearings as to the 
financial lay of Meg’s future anchorage. 

“True enough,” laughed Mr. Thump, as he saw Mr. 
Hamper’s words had a deeper meaning than he exactly 
intended they should convey. “But business seldom 
catches me off the post, and all work and no play, you 
know, makes a dull fellow, and I am especially desirous 
of not being dull now nor hereafter.” 

Peleg saw the sail was filling and that he must bid 
the craft it towed along God speed, so he answered pleas- 
antly, “ I ’ope ye may never be that, Mr. Thump — fer 
me — Meg — ” The lawyer saw his embarrassment and 
began at once. 

“ Meg left a note for me when she left Mother Susan, 
saying she should tell you herself, so I know what you 
refer to, Mr. Hamper. I have been to your home, when 
I could find time for a few moments, and looked in upon 
Mother Martha ; sometimes I found Meg and sometimes 
not. She is a busy little body among the needy. I 
thoiiglit I should find you there, but was never so fortu- 
nate ; and perhaps it was as well, for as neither is hurried 
just now, let us take the time for a fair talk and a clear 
understanding without fear of intrusion. Which way 
shall we go ?” And Mr. Thump put his hand upon the 


MEG, uncle;’ and SAMUEL. '363 


arm of Snatcher’s captain, as if to turn him about, for they 
’were nearing Wreckers Court. 

“ It be all the same to me, up stream or down,” re- 
turned Peleg, and wheeled about with the air of a man 
who must make a sacrifice, and was going to make it 
boldly. 

“Well, then,” said Mr. Thump,‘“let us go back to 
the Wilton, and from there to where we may find the way 
less crowded.” 

And the nicely fitted boot of the one, kept step to the 
large rough and coarsely made of the other. The wind 
sometimes blew the skirt of the fine silken-stitched surtout 
of the one against the grinningly held, well-patched cover- 
ing of the other ; the passers by looked at the contrast, 
some smiled, some scanned, some wondered for a mo- 
ment, but all forgot ere the next square was made. 

, When a little more roomy the way, because less nu- 
merous and less busy the folks who were on it, Mr. 
Thump broke the silence. “ Meg says she will never 
leave you, Mr. Hamper, till she can say who she is. 
Now, if you do not object to her becoming Mother 
Susan’s daughter and — my wife,” he added softly, “can 
you not clear, or help to clear, that point ? and if not, 
can you not show her that it is foolish to let a mere whim 
of pride keep us apart ?” 

The captain of Snatcher turned fairly about, laid his 
great unwashed palm on the brim that shaded his face, 
and it was instantly on a line with his forehead, put one 
foot forward, very much as if he was stepping on the 
prow of his little craft, folded his arms, and then said 
what he had to say. 

“ ’Ye mustn’t mind if I calls ye Samooel ; it brings yer 
deck down to mine, so I can step on it the better ; so I 
says, Samooel, Meg war born a leddy, and she knows it, 
if she don’t say it. Ye might o’ been born a gentleman, 
an’ between ye an’ me I doesn’t doubt ye war. There 
be suthin’ about ye that tells it, I alius said, but ye be a 
man an’ can make yer own riggin’; ye can ’ave as many 
masts as ye like, and they doesn’t ask if ye alius ’ad ’em. 
But Meg be a girl an must sail alius jest as she leaves 
port. If she ’ave a name on ’er ’nil an’ can show ’er papers 


3^4 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


ye need never tow ’er, Samooel, she will sail by yer side, 
or it might be, now an’ then a ’ead, but never behind, 
never ; Meg war never born fer that. 

So it be no whim, as ye calls it ; it be what a born 
leddy ’ud do. Does ye think if she war a common build 
she ’ud say ‘if’ and ‘but’ to a man as can take the 
tow in law ye can.?' We heered o’ ye — she knows what 
they say o’ ye — and does ye thinks a Wrecker ’ud say 
‘wait’.? does ye think a Lunley ’ud say ‘if’? does ye 
thinks many o’ un as ’ad never looked at Mother Susan 
and the Lane ’ud say ‘but ’ ? No, they ’ud be glad to 
go under yer colors ; but not Meg ; no, not Meg. She 
beent that build. So, now I’ll take yer, if ye will, an’ 
say I can give Meg to ye, and feel that the voyage ’ll be 
a good ’un when she can show ’er ’ul an’ papers, as 1 said 
afore.” 

“ And so I am not to expect help from you, uncle .?” 
returned Samuel pulling off his glove, and cordially 
grasping the hand extended. “ I had hoped you were 
just the one to make Meg feel differently. Do you 
think, does she think, it could ever make any change in 
my love for her, never mind who she is ?” he asked with 
much feeling. “ I do not care for her ancestors. I care 
for her ; she does not know who I am.” 

“ Now, Samooel, ’ark ye,” interrupted Peleg folding 
again his arms as if to fortify the resolution he had made. 
“Ye may see ’er ways be jist as sweet, ye may see she 
can cut cleaner than most o’ craft, but ye will be won- 
derin’, now and then, where she shipped from. Ye can’t 
’elp it, Samooel, I know it ; it be the way men be made. 
Now, Jane war from a good Yorkshire line that she let 
go on, an’ put out by ’ersel, but she ’ad the build, an’ I 
knowed it, an’ many o’ time when there war a dead calm, 
I didn’t slip anchor ’cause I knowed Jane war o’ stuff as 
’ud raise the breeze ; she alius did. Now, if I ’ad o’ been 
oncertain o’ ’er make. I’d o’ let go many o’ time, yes, 
many o’ time, but she war ribbed in York, blooded ye 
’ud say, an’ now, ye mark my words, if ye doesn’t see the 
day when ye’ll find yer love drawin’ deeper water ’cause 
ye can say. Missus Thump war the girl o’ somebody, 
than. Missus Thump war the picked-up o’ Peleg Ham- 


MEG, ‘^UNCLEE AND SAMUEL. 365 


per, Wreckers Court. No, Meg be right, but I didn’t tell 
’er so, Samooel. I said ‘ Never mind, child,’ but I only 
done it to ease ’er a bit o’ the cargo she carries, fer I 
tells ye it be a ’eavy ’un, ’eavier than ye thinks. I took 
’er up stream an’ down stream, an’ she tol’ me all ’er 
’eart, poor child. But look ye ’ere,” and he laid his hand 
on Mr. Thump’s arm, and leaned forward to his ear. 
“ I ’ope the thing ’ll come to the top o’ the water, I does ; 
an’ I feels in ’ere, it will, an’ soon too.” He withdrew 
his hand and put it on his heart, and while shaking his 
head slowly he added, “ There be a wrong some’ers, an’ I 
beent idle. I pulls a little this way an’ a little that, but 
soon I be goin’ to make a pull right a ’ead. Yes, keep 
yer ’eart, lad, an’ see what Peleg ’ll do.” 

“ For Meg’s peace of mind and happiness, then, I will 
wait awhile, at least, but not always,” began Mr. Thump. 

“An’ ye ’ll not alius, I knows, Samooel. I finds 
water ’ll clear itsel’ arter awhile, if ye lets it be, but I 
knows it be ’ard to wait,” interrupted Mr. Hamper. “ If 
it be ye could feel lighter o’ ’eart, I might say I ’ave 
ketched a sail now an’ then, when I be on the lookout, 
an’ be’s purty sure it ’ails from a port that ’as knowed the 
child. I can’t tell ye anyways about it, till I be more 
sure o’ ’er cargo, but she be ’eaded for Meg, I knows.” 

“ It may be,” Mr. Thump suggested, with a bright- 
ened look and more cheerful tone, “ it may be that I 
can assist you, uncle.” 

There was something in this acknowledging of Peleg 
as bearing the same relation to himself that he did to 
Meg that touched the former, and whenever he was ad- 
dressed as “ uncle,” he felt a warm glow in his heart and 
a pride that he should be thus called because he had 
been such, and even more, almost a father and a mother to 
“ the little bit the tide ’ad never the ’eart to carry out,” 
he often said in her younger, almost baby days, when she 
first fell in his way. He replied earnestly but not roughly. 

“ No, Samooel, I ’ave sed I’d ship no crew, but if I 
’ave to, mebbe I’ll call ye. Jest hoi’ taut yer pluck, an’ 
Meg ’ll like ye the better. Doesn’t ye pester ’er with 
teazen’ ’er to change wind, but now an’ then ye can make 
as if ye ’oped fer a tack about some day. Ye knows ’ow 


366 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


to do it, Samooel ; ye be well up in law, an’ I thinks a 
lad as old as ye, be well up in love too. Ah ! Meg she 
be a sweet, sweet barque to sail ’long with. Ye ’ave no 
notion ’ow sweet,” and with this exceedingly tantalizing 
remark, Mr. Hamper tacked about himself and per- 
formed the same nautical manoeuvre upon Mr. Thump, 
and proceeded to tow him over the course they had just 
come, at least so far as the Lane’s corner, where they 
saw the blind man, just taking himself, somewhat hur- 
riedly, by his accustomed post. Mr. Thump would have 
stopped him, but neither of them had the chance, for he 
felt his way up to them and stopped himself. 

“ I hear Mr. Thump’s step,” said the man, putting 
out his hand, in the quivering way the sightless do, “ and 
I would like to tell him that John Hansom will see him 
day after to-morrow, at two o’clock, at Jericho’s Inn. 
You pass along the Wilton to Reeling Lane that cuts off 
Friar’s Way which runs down to Mayfair, but do not go 
down the Way, it will take you to the heart of town. I 
tell you this, for the sudden stop of Friar’s gets one 
puzzled, but keep on the Reeling till you pass Armsby 
Lodge, then turn to Penrose, and by the end of that you 
will find yourself in the more open Ways. Anyone can 
show you Jericho’s Inn, or it may be, you can see for 
yourself, ‘This is Jericho! Travellers, stop and be re- 
refreshed.’ There, Mr. Thump, you will find Mr. Han- 
som. You have some one with you, Mr. Thump, just 
lead me aside where I can have a word with you, if you 
please.” 

“ I’ll shove off,” said Mr. Hamper, with a peculiarly 
interested look at the blind man. “ Ye can still ’eave 
to, an’ board each other,” and he stepped on one side, 
still with an expression on his face that might have been 
light dawning, or it might have been only the shifting of 
the shadows making ready for the light. 

“Mr. Trout might be looked after for the next few 
days with great profit to Mr. Hansom’s cause, I think,” 
said the blind man in a mysterious way to Mr. Thump. 
“ Come, Rover, come, lead me on,” and the dog led him 
on till they were lost sight of. 

Mr. Hamper joined Mr. Thump, and both took sev- 


MEG, ^^UNCLE,” AND SAMUEL, 367 

eral steps after the man, before they realized which way 
they were going. 

“ Do you know that man asked the lawyer ; then 
both looking in the direction pointed out, they saw 
themselves going from, not to the Lane ; so, turning to- 
gether, each held his gaze on the man and dog. 

“ Ye me ask what I beent jist ready to say ‘ yes ’ to, 
nor ‘ no ’ to. I thought once I did, and then I thought 
maybe I didn’t,” came from Mr. Hamper slowly, as he 
took off his hat and ran his stiff brown fingers through 
his unkempt locks, as if in their tangled meshes lay a 
hope of elucidating something, he could not tell exactly 
what. 

“ And I thought the same. The dog, I am sure, I 
have seen before,” said Mr. Thump, with no less of a 
hazy look, as if light was also struggling through his 
mind. 

“ I war to 'ail ’im, too, when I war reddy to see a man 
at Jericho,” remarked Peleg, after a short walk in silence, 
“but I thought I’d ’eave to a bit an’ let ye go. Mister 
Hansom beent the man I goes thar to see, though ; it be 
Wallace, Mister Wallace, an’ that looks as nigh to his 
dog as one craft in two waters.” 

“ Wallace, Wallace,” murmured Mr. Thump to him- 
self, after parting cordially with Mr. Hamper, and prom- 
ising to keep up a brave heart, and hurrying on to his 
office. 

“ Thar be many paddles, but not so many be doin’ 
the paddlin’ as un might think at a first lookout,” said 
Peleg to himself, as he walked leisurely down the Wilton 
on his way to Wreckers Court. 


368 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

NO HOPE FOR MISTRESS BOGGS. 

The Bottlers were not many of them astir wj:ien a 
man with a frightened look, timid air, and fleet footsteps, 
that is, as fleet as he could make them under the dread 
he seemed to labor — it was not a dread of what was be- 
fore him but behind, and yet nothing, nobody was fol- 
lowing — entered the court. 

“It seems so strange,” he whispered to himself, “so 
strange not to be called back. I shall never get used to 
it, I know, and yet I am sorry, very sorry for her ; but 
why should I be either, for she has not been sorry for me 
all these years ? It seems just as if I must run to the 
area and not rap at the third house from the corner.” 
Tap, tap, tap. 

Harold was awake this morning before the sun was 
up, or rather out before him, for he meant never to be 
caught again, so long as he was the busy little body we 
first found him. He heard the tap, the dog heard it, too, 
but the dog’s master did not. He was worn out so truly 
and thoroughly with the tugging of the past day or two 
at heart,, at brain, at nerve, that, after rounding out an- 
other pile of candle-ends, but not quite so full as the 
night before, he had literally fallen upon Harold’s bed 
and slept the sound sleep that he must have, or his task 
would never be accomplished ; so no one greeted the 
timid little fellow who ventured the tap, tap, tap, but 
Isaac with the dog at his heels. He did not put on his 
cloak or shoulder his sack, for, as he said when he un- 
bolted, unbarred, and unlatched the door, and put out his 
long nose with his face directly behind or as near as 
could be, “ I thought it was you, Boggs, I was sure it 
was. Ha, ha, ha ! don’t be afraid, I haven’t got an 


MISTINESS BOGGS PARALYZED 369 


area. No, I have not, nor a cat, nor a shop, no — I must 
hold myself, I must, for I want to straighten and can’t ; 
there ain’t room, no, there ain’t; what shall I do.? what 
shall I do ? I have it ; yes, see ; Boggs, see,” and he fell 
upon his open palms and stood upon them, and balanced 
his head upon the black silk •button that lield together 
the half orange peels of his cap, while his long pointed 
shoes performed such forward, backward, and lateral 
movements as were necessary to sustain the balance. 

Boggs had looked forward to his first visit to Isaac 
for years with the most pleasurable anticipations, but to 
be greeted thus, was too much for his comprehensive 
powers, and he sat down on the step, literally because so 
frightened that he could not stand up. He put his 
hands over his eyes to shut out the danger into which he 
thought the Little Man in mental aberration had put 
himself, then, as he heard neither the snapping short of 
the cervical bones nor indication of the dislodging of the 
dorsal, he ventured to part the middle and index finger 
of one hand and peep — still the pointed shoes were aloft, 
still the black silk button held its ground, still the hands 
with their long thin fingers were flat and firm ; just as 
another fit of terror seized him and the fingers were clos- 
ing out the sight, the shoes were still, then they wavered 
a little, then they swung forward, backward, forward, 
back — and as it flashed over the timid Boggs what might 
be Isaac’s intention, he began speedily to draw down the 
index finger, for he had not finished the closing when 
the stillness fell upon the shoes, but before he could do 
it over went the shoes, the silk stockings, the shorts, the 
jockey’s coat — over, backward, bringing the Little Man 
upon his feet with the black button atop. 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” he laughed at the trembling Boggs. 
“ It is better than nothing, but not so good as if there 
was more room for up, down, down, up — oh! it is 
straightening out that makes a person feel good. Try 
it, Boggs, try it ; I will hold your feet till you know how. 
Why, if I couldn’t straighten out where would 1 have 
been years ago.? It has saved me from many and many 
a draw up. Yes, it has, Boggs. Do you know what a 
draw up is .?” 


370 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“Yes,” replied Boggs, glad that the Little Man’s at- 
tention had been taken from the proposition he had 
made to teach him the niceties necessary for a successful 
“ straightening out.” “ Yes, I saw it done an hour ago, 
and I’d rathej not see it again, although — ” and he gave 
a deep sigh of relief — “ ^though it might be better for 
me.” He was still sitting; he had done so little of it at 
his leisure for so many years that he enjoyed it thor- 
oughly. Isaac looked down. Boggs seemed so un- 
concerned as to how long he sat, as to what he had come 
for, or as to anything but being unmolested, that it 
flashed upon him in a twinkling, and he held himself at 
the knees, at the sides, at the ears while he laughed, sup- 
pressing somewhat the loudness lest Great Heart might 
be disturbed. 

As soon as he could speak, he said, his eyes over- 
flowing with the tears of his merriment, “ I see it, I see 
it ; Mistress Boggs has drawn up ; I thought it would 
come to that ; yes, I did.” 

“But you don’t tell the best,” returned Boggs quietly 
and resignedly, “she can’t draw down again. He says 
so, the man we called in to tell us why she couldn’t talk. 
She was took sudden, amd it’s all over one side. He 
thinks she’ll never talk much again, and he knows she’ll 
never walk.” 

“ Who is with her ?” asked Harold, his kind heart 
touched at the thought of the poor woman alone. 

“Joe said he would sit by her; she likes Joe ; always 
has. She told me only last night, if I had only been a 
man like Joe, that the shop would never have worn her 
out as it has. She never thought how the area had 
worn me out ; oh, no, she never thought of me. But I do 
not mind it now, so long as it drew up her tongue a bit, 
for you see that it’s mighty unpleasant for a man that can 
at last sit down and not get up till he gets ready, to hear 
a body say, ‘ Boggs, why don’t you t Boggs, why do 
you ?’ No, Isaac, I shall put spikes on the area wall so 
it won’t worry her, I shall make good bargains and tell 
her about them. I shall make it as easy for her, you see, 
as I can, but of course I must jingle the money-box, else 
how could I make change with the customers ? I shall 


MISmESS BOGGS PARALYZED. 


371 


get a maid for the cooking and looking after Mistress 
Boggs — she shall not be neglected ; while I shall beg]n to 
look about a little and see for myself whether%Boggs can- 
not be a man — I do not think it is too late. You may 
think I made my plans quick; yes, I did and I didn’t, 
you see. I had a hope that this might come some day, 
and so as I had not much else to do I had the plans 
all ready. I find it was not a bad idea, for now, you see, 
when I have something to do they are ready to hand — ■ 
no stopping to make them.” And having thus delivered 
himself, Boggs folded his hands and sat perfectly still. 

“ Good ! good ! Hiram ; I like to hear you talk so ; 
now you will get up in the world, I know. I shouldn’t 
know you, though, you look so like what you always 
ought to. But come in, come in, and tell me what I can 
do for you,” said Isaac in a cheery way. 

“ No, no, thank you, I will not this morning. I can 
come whenever I like, you know, now. The longer I am 
away the stronger, the braver I feel, and the more I like 
to sit ; but I will go now, for it will be time soon to open 
the shop, and I must make good trades to-day. I only 
came to tell you that we thought she wanted to see you ; 
Joe thought so, and he told me how to come. It ain’t 
hard to find; I shall be here again,” and Hiram arose, 
adding, “ When shall we see you at Cross-Cut Lane ? 
If she could talk I’d take you home with me, but she 
can’t, so come when you can.” 

“ Ha, ha ! how I like to hear you talk,” said Isaac, 
patting Boggs on the back. “ It does me good. You 
will do, Hiram, you will do. But what did the man call 
the draw up V' 

Hiram looked down at the step, looked across at the 
green-grocer’s corner, looked up at the little patch of 
sky, but the name did not come, at least, only so far as 
“ Par — par — I can’t get it, Isaac.” 

“ Paralysis,” suggested the Little Man. 

‘‘ Yes, yes ! that is what he called it, and no hope with 
it, he said — that is, no hope of walking, as I told you. I 
listened more to the no hope than to the name, you see,” 
he replied with a quiet look at Isaac. 

“ That was right, that was the best you could do, 


372 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Hiram ; I will call sometime to day,” he added as he saw 
Boggs was moving off. “ I do not gather much now, and 
am in not ^o much of a hurry as I was once. There is 
still so much to do, but somehow I take more time to do 
it. Good day ! know the way back.? Yes ! that’s good, 
Hiram, you’ll be a man as is a man now ; good day,” 
and he turned towards the dog, who was looking and lis- 
tening, when he suddenly bethought himself and called, 
“ Hiram Boggs — Mister Boggs, I mean !” 

Hiram had moved away leisurely ; he was fast losing 
the frightened look and timid air he had upon enter- 
ing the court. He was not far off, and so stepped back, 
when Harold said with a pained look on his face, “ How 
did it come over her ? When .?” 

Hiram answered the latter first, saying, “ An hour 
before break o’ day, not more than two ago — I did not 
see it come.” 

“ Anything bring it that you know of ?” he continued 
questioning, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. 

“Yes, mad,” was the laconic reply. 

“ Mad at what ?” 

“ She was dreaming that the area was full o’ cats, and 
that I wouldn’t go to ’em ; so she got so mad she drew 
up and there she is. The man we called says excite- 
ment of any kind ’ll do it. I have seen her madder be- 
fore, but it didn’t make the draw — wasn’t ready I sup- 
pose,” and he stood perfectly still, evidently waiting for 
more questions. 

None came, but Isaac looked troubled and said, 
“ That’s all, Mister Boggs. She can hear ?” 

Boggs nodded affirmatively. 

“ Tell her I will come as soon as I can,” and he went 
in, followed by the dog, to where Mr. Wallace still slept, 
and began his preparations for breakfast, but so noise- 
lessly that the sleeper was still unconscious. He went 
out with the black jug for the pennyworth of milk with 
the pennyworth of cream afloat upon it, filled the legal 
bag with whatever was needed, forgot not more fags for 
the dog, and was back again; but he was not so joyous 
as he had been, his face wore a thoughtful look and he 
might have been heard to say, “ E.xcitement of any kind. 


M/STJ^£SS BOGGS PARALYZED. 


373 


Well, I told Great Heart I’d watch and not gather for 
awhile, till he gets his wrong righted, at least ; then I 
must look to my own. Great Heart first always; then 
after that how I must gather — the lady’s-maids how I 
have looked for ’em, but never saw her face among ’em. 

I have been well over the Great Chimney, and never saw 
or heard of her ; but I shall yet — yes, I shall find her, and 
we will go back. Oh ! oh ! how that tore my heart ; but 
I won’t let it draw me up ! no, no. Excitement of any 
kind ; I’ll remember that, I will,” and passed in again to 
the one-story dwelling, where the tea was simmering and 
the coals waiting for the juicy chops he speedily laid on 
them. 

When all was in readiness he wakened Mr. Wallace, 
who, after rubbing of the eyes and stretching of the limbs, 
arose, bathed face and hands in the clear, cold water 
Isaac had just drawn from the pump in the centre of the 
court — one thing that gave lavishly and without price to 
the poor. 

They ate and they drank. Dearie, after much 
smoothing of her feathers and eyeing of the dog, jumped 
into the open doorway and cried, “Time’s up! time’s 
up !” more directly addressing herself to Great Heart, 
who at once arose, and from his pocket drew some grains 
which he held out at some distance from the cage. The 
bird flew out and alighted on his finger, helped herself 
from his hand, or rather took all there was, and then, as 
if she thought one supply exhausted, she would demand 
another, turned her head towards her master and cried, 
“ I’m in a hurry ! I’m in a hurryj” 

“ Ha, ha ! I thought you would be soon in a hurry 
to get to the parent. Come, come, dearie, just here is 
your place.” She flew and perched upon the Little 
Man’s chair in obedience to his invitation. He gave her 
crumbs from the roll he was eating, and when she had 
enough, still lingered lovingly about him, pecked the 
black silk button and laid her head on each of the 
orange peels, as if to see which was the softest. Isaac 
was touched by her affectionate mood ; he had felt very 
tender at heart since Hiram had gone, and it took but 
little to give a watery look to his eyes. He did not feel 


374 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


so merry now when thinking of silent Mistress Boggs, 
and when he told Great Heart of his early visitor and 
the news he had brought, he drew a picture quite as 
pitiable of her as he had always done before of her 
husband. 

When the dog had eaten all the fags, or as many of 
them as were needed to satisfy himself, the starling had 
gone back to her cage for her morning bath and to 
brood over the dog’s indifference, when Mr. Wallace had 
gathered together in order of their importance the papers 
of which he had during the night, with the assistance of 
Isaac, completed the reading, and the Little Man had 
cleared the traces of the morning meal by crumbs swept 
into the fire, dishes laid in the cupboard, towel and pan 
put upon their nails, and opening of window and door 
to let in what fresh air the court could spare — and it was 
little enough it had — then Mr. Wallace said, “What work 
for the day ?” 

“ That is just it, Great Heart,” returned Isaac, 

“ what work 

“Let me see, I was not at Jericho last night ; it may . 
be Joe called. He has always done so when he had 
anything to report,” began Mr. Wallace. 

“ And that has been but little so far,” interrupted 
Isaac. 

“ Yes, but it will be more active soon. He will have 
nothing to say save that, it may be, Mr. Trout has called 
upon Ivandale’s future Mistress,” laughed Great Heart. 
“The blind man baited him yesterday for securing her 
before she became the heir of the Radnor’s, and it took 
— yes, he snapped at it. So you need not be surprised 
to hear of a union. It is well, very well ; Mr. Trout 
will make a most exemplary husband, no doubt, and she 
— well worthy of her origin.” 

“ When will you call to see her V' 

“ Not at all, unless it is necessary to the establishment 
of the claim we work for, Harold. I prefer not to see 
her ; it would bring back memories that I must keep 
down, you know.” 

“ Yes, yes. Great Heart, they always make you sad ; 
and what wonder .? what wonder 


M/STJ^ESS BOGGS PARALYZED, 


375 

“You say, good Isaac,” said Mr. Wallace turning the 
subject quickly, “ you will call upon poor Mistress 
Boggs ; so then you may tell Joe to report here and not 
to Jericho, hereafter.” 

“Yes, so I can, so I can. Now, what else You 
remember I shall not gather now, but watch if she comes 
into the court again and alone. I shall know it, and 
never take eye from her till Mr. Hamper’s door shadows 
her. No, I cannot gather when you need me, Great 
Heart,” said Harold earnestly. 

“ How glad I shall be, good Isaac, to see you in the 
rest you have so faithfully earned.” 

« “ But it won’t be the rest you pray for,” broke in the 

Little Man sadly. “ It is coming — a rest, yes, it is com- 
ing ; I heard them talk of it last night. They said it 
would come suddenly, and it will.” 

“ No, no, Isaac, not yet, not yet. Come now, let me 
see again,” and Mr. Wallace led the Little Man from 
himself easily, for his nature was volatile — he could 
straighten out and be merry one moment and the next 
draw up or cry. “ There is Mr. Hamper ; I did not go 
to the river last night. See him, if you can, and say I 
will be down to night if nothing should happen, and ask 
him when he will visit Jericho to talk with me. Tell 
him the weather is growing cold for the blind man, and 
he will not be found at the corner of the Lane so much 
now.” 

“ That’s good,” cried Isaac, “ it makes me — ” and 
up, down, down, up he went, till thoroughly straightened 
out he stood upon his feet and said, soberly, “Now 
what of the papers of state for Mr. Hansom ? Ha, ha, 
ha! Mr. Hansom, that’s good. Great Heart, very good; 
ha, ha! but I can’t straighten out again — no, once I 
could, but not now. I am weaker than I was once. 
Getting ready for the rest, you see,” he added sorrow- 
fully. “ But now I must get ready for work.” 

“ I shall not need any more papers than these at 
present,” said Great Heart, “ the time has not come for 
showing what we have. I will wait while you go to 
Cross-Cut Lane, then I will see Mr. Hansom.” 


3 /^ 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

MR. HANSOM STILL REFUSES TO RECOGNIZE CHANCE 
AT WORK. 

Two o’clock came ; Mr. Hansom awaited Mr. Thump 
and Mr. Thump awaited Mr. Hansom at the same mo- 
ment. The former alighted from a newly covered, newly 
painted, newly varnished, newly cushioned, and newly 
curtained fly, drawn by a horse whose knees could never 
be limbered, but whose hoofs had been hardened ; whose 
tail could never be lengthened, but its unseemliness was 
not so apparent since a bright, new, well made harness 
with striped ribbons was laid over the now not protrud- 
ing thighs, nor the too plainly to be distinguished ribs 
of the animal, so well had a few weeks’ feeding told upon 
him. The driver looked sleek, as if he were more used 
to a dinner of plenty than when we first met him ; he 
was smartened in dress, in bearing, and, in short, they all 
three looked much the better for the “ wenture ” the man 
took when he risked the fly’s underworks with the drunk- 
en weight of Tom, Barley. 

“ Glad to see you, glad, very glad,” said Mr. Hansom 
as he followed the golden bird on the ebony cane out of 
the conveyance, for Mr. Thump was just putting foot 
upon the steps of Jericho’s inn. 

“And so am I to see you, Mr. Hansom,” returned the 
young lawyer as he turned about and assisted the old 
gentleman to the ground. They shook hands most 
heartily and entered the inn when the hostess who seem- 
ed prepared for their coming led them to a small room 
m the second flight which contained a large table and 
two chairs ; on the former were a stand of ink, one of 
sand, a rack of quills and pens, packages of various sized 
paper. The chairs were not what would be called very 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED, 


377 


easy, and they were not the hard wooden seats usually 
found at an out-of-the-way inn, but they were well suited 
to the comfort of two men who were to handle a subject 
that would bear no lolling nor idle leaning upon. 

The elder led the way into the apartment whose floor 
was bare, save in front of the chairs, where two rugs were 
laid ; the cane went stump, stump, stump, until it came 
before the larger seat, where, after assisting its master 
down into it by allowing itself to be well borne upon, it 
was stood against one of the arms, not left leaning and 
neglected as an ordinary cane would have been, but with’ 
its head up, so that the golden bird could command with 
her glittering eyes all that lay upon the table. The 
younger followed, him after throwing aside his outer 
covering, for without the weather was cool, but within, 
the room being sunny, was sufficiently warm without a 
fire. Mr. Hansom wore a short cloak, or it might be 
termed a long cape ; it was made of velvet that was not 
newly bought, and yet it had seen little wear; it had 
a broad collar that was made to do under all circum- 
stances just what it was then doing — lay down flat upon 
the shoulders, to which it was tightly fastened at the cor- 
ners by a bit of heavy black silk embossing, which, had 
one looked closely,' might have been deciphered into an 
eagle’s beak and a lion’s claw — keenness and strength — 
but they were so nicely concealed by stems and vines, 
dots and spots, that only a sharp ‘eye •■would see them. 
After sitting for a few moments, as if to recover the 
breath he was supposed from his panting to have parted 
with on his way up a stairway, which was in truth a 
little steep, and after seeing that Mr. Thump was like- 
wise seated, he arose without his cane and walked to the 
still open door, drew from his pocket a small silver whis- 
tle, and from it sent forth a peculiar note, a call was the 
beginning of it, a command the middle, and a trust was 
the close of it. The first was hardly under way when a 
door leading from the opposite side of the passage was 
pushed open and out came a nose, a head, a body, a t il 
— a dog. He pattered a step or two, to be sure that he 
was all there, for the door he had opened was more ir.- 
clined to swing forward than back, it had been newly 


378 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


hinged ; finding no part of himself lacking from the tight 
squeeze he bounded across and stood up on his hind 
legs, put his fore paws in the vicinity of the crest, and so 
like the lion’s claws did they look, that one might have 
said they were a diminutive of the original. He lapped 
the cheeks, nosed the long gray beard of Mr. Hansom, 
then got down and awaited orders. 

“ On guard. Rover,” came at once, “ Owlie within 
and you without, and what have I to fear V' At the word 
“ guard ” the dog stretched himself at firil length before 
the threshold, paws extended, head upon them, eyes 
open, ears forward, and tail on the alert. 

Mr. Hansom closed the door, crossed the room and 
took his seat again. Mr. Thump saw the dog, noted him 
well ; he had done so twice a day or two before, if he 
could believe his own eyes and listen to his own sus- 
picions. 

“No ears can hear, no eyes can pry now, sir. That 
dog knows more than many a man, and he would be torn 
into shreds, veritable shreds, sir, before he would leave 
there without my leave. Give me a dog for guarding; 
give me an owl for guiding, and I can touch bottom any- 
where,” said Mr. Hansom with the most perfect satisfac- 
tion, and putting the bird where she could see still bet- 
ter, and be seen by both her master and his guest. 

“ Whether it be attributed to the effort of the dog or 
the owl, Mr. Hansom, I cannot say, but I feel sure we 
shall soon find rock for our feet in this labor,” replied 
Mr. Thump as he drew forth from a dark blue bag with 
a large T worked on one side, in another shade of the 
same color — Susan’s work, of course — a bundle of papers, 
and spread them upon the table. “ The way will soon 
be cleared, I doubt not, for the somebody, but who and 
where is she .? However, of that even, I do not despair. 
One round at a time and the ladder is mounted. Let 
me make plain the way and I shall trust, with the aid of 
dog and bird, if you will lend them to me, that is, if I 
should need them, to finding her just when she is wanted 
to crown success.” 

“ Why, that is good, good,” cried Mr. Hansom, rub- 
bing together his hands, upon the little finger of one, the 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 


379 


lawyer now saw a heavy seal ring with ‘the same crest, 
the lion’s claw and eagle’s beak, sunken upon it. “ I 
fear you cannot yet see how good that is, but you will 
some day ; eh, Owlie ? Now, now for work ; glitter, glis- 
ten, glow, and burn your brightest,” and he looked ea- 
gerly at the papers through a pair of gray eyes, whose 
depth and earnestness belied the light tones of his 
voice. 

“ I went to Wenham that very night upon the day of 
which you gave your case into my hands,” began the 
lawyer. 

“ Stop ; not my case, the client’s case, the unknown 
client’s. Mr. Thump’s Client let us call her ; go on, go 
on,” and just then he bethought himself of the mongrel 
curls. Putting up his hand he found his hat over them, 
or so much and so many of them as it could get, so he 
took it off, put it on the floor beside him, and listened, 
with his hand half way on its upward journey to the 
curls again. 

“As you please, Mr. Hansom,” returned Mr. Thump 
pleasantly. “ As I was saying, I went to Wenham.” 

“ By Cross Bow coach ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ An inside seat ?” 

“ Yes, sir, and I have you to thank for it, I know.” 

“Owlie, sir, Owlie ; she lighted me to it; thank her.” 

“ But she could not go alone, so I must thank you 
both,” and the lawyer bowed his acknowledgments to 
bird and master. “I reached Wenham by nightfall of 
the second day.” 

“ Many passengers ?” interrupted the elderly gentle- 
man still with the same eagerness in his eyes as they 
were fastened on the papers. 

“ From London to Thornby but few ; then the coach 
was well filled, and well covered, I might add, for there 
was no room to spare outside,” the lawyer replied puz- 
zled at the willingness of Mr. Hansom to spend so much 
time over trivialities when weighty matters were so near 
at hand. However, he kept his patience and temper, 
which he dimly began after awhile to suspect were just 
what the man was trying to see if he would lose. 


38 o 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


“And you got to Wenham and got out at Wenham, I 
suppose ? ” 

“Yes, and took lodgings at a modest inn outside the 
heart of the town, called the ‘Restful,’” continued Mr. 
Thump, determined to give as close particulars as he 
thought might be demanded if he withheld them, “ where 
I met many a fellow, in the tap-room, who had sharp- 
ened and polished steel under the tuition of William 
Seebold.” 

“ Listen, Owlie, now, listen !” broke in the elderly 
gentleman. “ But how did you know that was the tap- 
room where they talked at nights ? how did you know 
it? Chance didn’t take you there; nothing goes by 
chance.” 

“ No, not this time, I learned from the driver and 
some of the coach’s passengers what I needed to know 
of the town.” 

“ Ah, yes, yes ; busy, busy even in the coach ; we 
approve, Owlie, eh ? yes, we do,” and he nodded to the 
other to go on. 

“ I learned what only a rough coat and rusty appear- 
ance generally would give me the opportunity to, with 
now and then an emptying of a bumper, that almost the 
last servant to leave his master at Ivandale fled to the 
house of Major Ray, that he attended the old soldier in 
his last moments, and took from him papers that we 
must possess. But never mind now, let me tell my story. 
The Lord of Ivandale came often to see the major before 
his death, and over him the latter held an influence 
which so soothed him that the old reprobate began to 
realize that it might be a manly thing if he tried to right 
things. This I picked up from their talk in a few 
homely phrases from one and another, and, cleared of 
all ornamentation, thus it is ; also, that the old lord lin- 
gered in and about the village for some time, now cared 
for by the old servant whose name was Barclay, Jonas 
Barclay, and now wandering from door to door. All 
knew who he was, but none took the steps to detain, or 
have him detained. One day he was missed and thought 
to have died in some lonely place, for it seems he had a 
fancy for seeking such in and about the village. Some 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 


381 

felt pity for him, but more remembered what he had 
done when he took from them William Seebold, whose 
name they speak almost with reverence. Their children 
had been told of him and his good works, and they 
pointed the fingers of scorn at his father. Those who 
pitied the latter searched for him, but no trace could be 
found. Months, at last, rolled by, and one day he ap- 
peared in Wenham as suddenly as he had disappeared, 
wandered about, found that the last link between him 
and his old life was gone — Jonas was dead. He laid his 
roofless head, one night, on the very steps of the ruined 
home of William vSeebold, and the next morning they 
found him there dead, too.” 

Mr. Thump stopped and looked at Mr. Hansom, who 
instead of expressing satisfaction at the settling of the 
needful point — the decease of the last Radnor, only 
gazed at something in the distance and said, “ The ruins 
are untouched ? the vines, are they green 

There was something about this desolated place that 
held for Mr. -Thump a peculiar charm, and about its still 
pretty grounds he spent much time during his stay in 
the village, so he was not displeased at the disposition of 
Mr. Hansom to talk of it. 

“ Those that the frost cannot blast are green and grow 
as if they loved the place ; and I do not wonder that 
they do. The ruins are still the same,” he added after a 
moment in reply to the first question. “ It was bought, 
I hear, by a Sir James Lambert, who, I was assured by 
more than one of the townsfolk, if I could find, would aid 
me. When he left the place, which he did when the wife 
of Colonel Ray met with misfortune, he said the vines 
should never be cut till he cut them himself ; so they 
have grown, and I could not help fancying to myself as 
I tried sometimes to trace a long branch from the charred 
casement to the crumbling wall, how many pleasant 
home pictures those windows must have lighted, for if 
traditions are true of William Seebold, he had all the vir- 
tues his father lacked, with his faults entirely left out ; he 
had a wife worthy of his love, a helpmeet in all his good 
works, and a daughter, the little Mary whom the major 
sheltered so warmly, who held the hearts of all Wenham 


382 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


in her hands. I should ask nothing better, Mr. Hansom, 
for a monument when dead, than the same touching trib- 
ute paid to the Seebolds, and I will add both Major Ray 
and his son, by the simple folk of the village. Kind to 
the needy; gentle among the poor; proud among the 
proud ! Did you tell me, or did I hear there, that the 
heiress whom we seek must needs be charitable.?” 
Looking at Mr. Hansom, he paused for a reply. His 
head was bowed upon both hands, which in turn were 
leaning on the bird, whose glittering eyes were not to 
be seen. Were they, like her master’s, turned back upon 
the past, for whom it needed no fancying to make these 
pleasant home pictures .? They were veritably engraved 
upon his heart ; he had but any time to draw aside the 
curtain which the stirring life of the present must needs 
have to cover them, and the happy home of William 
Seebold stood before him. He was of an age and stature 
when he first crossed its threshold that was not ripe 
enough for manhood and too mature for boyhood, and 
back and forth he had gone from his own not far away, 
to this one, till one morning a silence fell upon the totter- 
ing walls, a sorrow fell upon the hearts of the people. 
For a few moments thus he lived again at Wenham, but 
awakened himself speedily to what lay before him in 
London, and said without heeding Mr. Thump’s ques- 
tion, “ Every word you have heard of them is true. 
Owlie, did you listen ? Covered .? Ah ! pardon, Owlie, 
pardon. How can I expect you to see if I cover you ? 
There, you will soon look; I will soon look; Mr. 
Thump, our adviser, will soon look,” and he nodded to 
the papers, one of which the lawyer drew forth, and open- 
ing handed to him. 

It was sealed, stamped, and ribboned by the magis- 
trate of Wenham, who was pleased and honored to deal 
out justice to the erring and unfortunate ; settle by 
wave of hand or nod of head landlord’s rights and ten- 
ant’s wrongs ; pronounce banns, if need be, and hear, in 
awful dignity, the tales of woe from those who wished 
them dissolved ; certify to correct records of births, 
deaths, deeds, titles, wills, and anything that falls to the 
lot of one man to serve Her Majesty in Her Majesty’s 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED, 


383 


'realm by maintaining order, peace, and good-will among 
a people who have never known aught else. So it was 
he who had, with flourish, given to Mr. Thump this posi- 
tive proof that the Lord of Ivandale had duly died and 
been duly buried within the precincts over which he held 
sway. 

“ Ha ! ■’ the same pompous old fellow; we remember 
him, Owlie, eh V and Mr. Hansom’s gray eyes saw every 
word and letter of the text, every curve of the seal, every 
fold of the ribbon, which evidently an old acquaintance 
still in magisterial robes, had caused to be prepared by 
an underling for his signature, which Mr. Hansom the 
elderly gentleman at once recognized. 

He returned it to the lawyer, who laid it by itself, to 
wait on one of its fellows. 

“ Let me settle the Ivandale question first,” said the 
lawyer, “ and then we will go back to the Ray, and even 
to the Glentworth — did you know of this one 1 yes, for 
you told me of it.” 

“Well enough, well enough, sir; I know of it,” 
chuckled Mr. Hansom. “ I see you looked the ground 
well over — good, very good thing to have an adviser ; go 
on.” 

“Armed with this document,” continued the lawyer, 
pointing to the proof, “ I went to Ivandale, a tedious, 
tiresome journey ; by railway a short distance, by coach 
a long, by saddle a still longer, but I found I had gone 
a very roundabout road, and the best, by far, was to 
keep saddle all the way and make short cuts across the 
country ; this I did on my return, and a pretty country 
I travelled over, too, Mr. Hansom. To one shut up all 
his life in London it was a new world. I found Ivandale 
covered with many acres of rich meadow and heavy for- 
est, all growing without scythe or axe having touched 
them for many a year. If the country about were held, 
not by the lofty lord, but by the rich farmer, there would 
be drawn, no doubt, to its abundant game and dropping 
fruit hordes of pillagers. But its nearest neighbors still 
hold a horror of the place, and those in their service still 
remember the whisperings of their older fellows as they 
spoke of the Radnors or anything that pertained to them. 


384 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


So it lies a vast luxuriant waste. The castle itself would 
be as a living tomb, I know, to one who might enter it. 
The walls are covered with vines so intertwined with 
each other that the ivy, the creeper, the sweetbriar, and 
the climbing wild-rose, have seemingly one root. I 
could not enter the grounds, but I clambered upon their 
broken walls and looked upon what could thus be seen. 
The frost had thinned the foliage of the trees, and I 
could catch the shape and form of here and there some- 
thing that vines, dying and letting go their hold in places, 
showed what might be beneath. Geographical research 
and official inquiry showed me that Ivandale belongs to 
the borough of Quelton, but one would have said it could 
and would belong to nothing and be under the jurisdic- 
tion of no one. It has a something about it that is so 
weird, so unearthly, that it seems to defy the hand of man 
to break its stillness or molest its mould. If the rumors 
are true that orgies by the lower world are still held 
there, I should say they could not in all England, and I 
doubt if in the whole world, find a more suitable place. 
To Quelton, or rather the heart of it, I turned horse, and 
there I lingered many days. I found a certain fellow 
there from London. He was, I learned, searching rec- 
ords for Lord Radnor’s death. I half liked him ; he did 
not seem wicked but weak. 

One day he began hob-nobbing with a country squire, 
and boasted of his power to drink thus and so without 
getting drunk. At the third glass he grew limber in the 
neck, at the fourth he leaned in body, at the fifth over 
he went, while the squire sat firm in nerve and cool in 
head. He slept, long and loud, and being not far re- 
moved from him that night, I could not sleep; the snor- 
ing from the fellow was intolerable — so I went to his 
room to turn him over or under, any way to bring relief, 
when at the first shake I gave him from the coat collar 
he begged off, sat up and began, as if to some one he 
dreaded and feared, a full explanation, in a maudlin way 
to be sure, but I think none the less true, of how he 
came to Quelton, and I considered myself the luckiest 
fellow known when I heard his story. You surely will 
acknowledge chance now, Mr. Hansom.” 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 385 

“Because you came upon Tom Barley sober and 
Tom Barley drunk, sir ?” interrupted the elderly gentle- 
man rubbing his right hand upon the head of the golden 
bird in great glee. “ No, no, we never do that, do we, 
Owlie, eh ? No, because we know chance has nothing 
to do with our work. There is a guiding power to all 
this, Mr. Thump. Call it the workings of justice if you 
will, but never call it chance ; you will see for yourself 
before we are through with this. But go on with Tom 
Barley.” 

“ Barley, Barley,” exclaimed the lawyer; “how know 
you his name was Barley — Tom, too, Tom ! — why I know 
a Miss Polly Barley who had a brother Tom ; but this 
surely cannot be — ” 

“Yes, it is, sir; go on, go on,” cried Mr. Hansom, 
“ Tm waiting patiently till it is my turn to talk, and then 
I will tell you something.” 

“ He told me he had been sent by Marplot and by 
my partner. Mr. Trout. This, of course, surprised me ; 
and lest he might tell it to some one upon whose ears 
it would fall as meaningless, I listened,” continued Mr. 
Thump smiling, “and I learned his story, but cannot but 
believe it was colored by drunken fancies, for it is a 
base, long, and deeply planned plot by one who I hope 
will prove that he is well named — Marplot, and will mar 
his own not our plots.” 

“No fear, no fear, is there, Owlie, dear? How you 
glisten and burn ! — you see what it is to have a legal 
adviser. Yes, you approve. So do I ; I do indeed, Mr. 
Thump,” and Mr. Hansom motioned him to proceed. 

“ I took notes, and here they are. I will give them to 
you, if you wish, while now I will put them in as few 
words as I can. Marplot stands ready, at any moment, 
to claim the Ray estate ; he is the only heir, although he 
is a distant one. He wants to see the way clear for 
somebody's possessions of Ivandale, and that somebody 
I must find ; why he should I cannot yet see.” 

“ The devil that he is,” broke forth Mr. Hansom 
stumping the ebony cane so furiously on the floor that 
the dog outside growled ominously. 

“A slyer one I never saw for one who is not brilliant 


386 


THUMBS CLIENT., 


in mind or active in body, judging from what I have 
heard through you and the people of Wenhan, who well 
remember his — ” 

“ Sliminess, sir, sliminess,” interposed Mr. Hansom, 
“ no other word for it, I know him well, ah, too well ; 
wait until I talk, Mr. Thump ; the adviser first and then 
the one he advises, sir.” 

“ Yes, sliminess will do, he is worthy of it no doubt. 
He claims, I find out, a previous marriage of Colonel 
Ray, which must have been the cause of -the trouble be- 
tween himself and the mother of Margaret, and that sent 
her from him, no doubt with reason at least partially 
dethroned ; but what became of her } All trace, so far, 
is lost, and your somebody is trying to heir Ivandale. 
Barley — I must not forget to finish him first — was also 
sent by Trout upon an errand apart, but of that he could 
not give me a clear idea, for he grew sleepy, surly, and 
dropped off into quiet slumber. The rest of the night I 
traced and retraced ; I dare not suppose the breadth of a 
hair, for we have much to cope against, Mr. Hansom, and 
I must prove all I assume. I tried to make the acquaint- 
ance of this man when sober, but he was most discreet 
and non-communicative. By the way, he did not go by 
the name of Barley, and I suspected he had an assumed 
name, for he never answered to it readily. If Marplot 
appears at Wenham to claim the Ray estate, I hardly 
think the quiet, justice-loving people of the village could 
keep hands off him. They do not hesitate, Mr. Hansom, 
to openly say that he burned the pretty church which the 
village was so proud of, and which William Seebold built 
and gave to the people for their own. But why could 
he have done it ? why ? One answer always occurs to 
me, and that is to destroy the records, for they were lost. 
But if he has proof, as Barley says, that Colonel Ray was 
married before, of what use 

“ He has no proof,” exclaimed Mr. Hansom angrily, 
“ he can find none, sir. Richard Ray I knew well ; he 
loved the world, but not the bad side of it : all was 
honor, sir, the fairest honor with him. If 'he did a 
wrong he righted it, but he did few of thenj, and slight 
ones too. He loved Mary Seebold, sir, and if you had 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 


387 

known her you would never wonder, never, that he did. 
Did you never meet a woman who seemed to you so 
pure, so good, so above you in all things, that you were 
srnall beside her, sir ; small in soul and heart, 1 mean ? 
Did you ever, Mr. Thump ; did you ever, sir ?” And 
the elderly gentleman leaned towards the lawyer, fixed 
his keen eyes searchingly upon him and awaited his 
reply. 

‘‘Yes,” it came at last warmly — “yes I have, sir, and 
can well understand how Colonel Ray, or plain Richard 
Ray he was then, worshipped, as you and all the village 
say he did, Mary Seebold. But this proof, if Marplot 
brings it forward, we must be ready to meet.” 

“ I will meet it, sir, and him too, with Owlie and the 
dog. I should like to meet him and it. Let me know, 
sir, when he puts it forward, let me know. If you can- 
not find me, let Isaac Harold know. Blue Bottle Court, 
No. 4, you remember.?” 

“ Yes, I know the place ; I passed it yesterday. Here,” 
said Mr. Thump, bringing forth another paper, “is the 
right I have from the magistrate of Quelton to enter Ivan- 
dale in the name of my client, if I only knew who it is. 
It is not a dishonorable advantage to take, I think, of the 
magistrate’s ignorance. His right to do this might be 
contested in court, for our client, thus far, is a myth. But 
I find the case desperate to keep Marplot from a share 
in the whole, or part of which I know is not his. -Now, 
I find that Jonas Barclay held the papers of Major Ray 
and the keys of Ivandale. The major became suspicious 
in his last days of every one but the old servant. He 
made a will and deposited it with the town authorities, 
withdrew it, and consigned it to the care of Barclay, who 
was to give it to Lord Radnor — a strange thing to do, 
but the major was whimsical, very, and child-like, so I 
reason that Ivandale must hold papers we nted. Who 
will find them .? The keys Jonas gave to his daughter, 
and she left Wenham long ago. All this I learned from 
the old magistrate who gave tbe .official proof of Rad- 
nor’s death. If the keys can be found we enter Ivan- 
dale. Have you a trusty man to do it ?” 

“ None with a steadier hand, truer heart, and cooler 


388 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


head can be found, sir, than we can command ; eh, Owlie ? 
How you glitter, glisten, glow, and burn ! ” 

“ A man must have courage, even with key in hand, to 
enter its portals. It makes me cold now to think of its 
awful stillness and gloom,” said Mr. Thump with a shrug 
of the shoulders. 

“ We can command, we can, sir, a man with courage. 
I will let him have that dog, sir, and if he needs any- 
thing more save plenty of food and warm clothes to face 
the goblins that grin and grimace, then let me know. 
They always fade, melt, slink away, sir, before an honest 
man ; and pray where would they be before an honest 
man and a faithful dog, sir, tell me that } No, no, let 
me get the keys, and we will waste no time in finding 
courage for their use.” 

“ That is a relief, Mr. Hansom, truly, for I cannot 
well spare the time ; you are too much in years ; your 
friend, Isaac Harold, has not the strength, I know, for 
the undertaking. Poor little fellow, he has a shadow on 
his heart, I know, despite his merriment, and the mendi- 
cant at the corner of Lunley and the Wilton, who seems 
to have your interest at heart, is sightless,” and Mr. 
Thump raised his eyebrows and after them his eyes ; the 
latter met Mr. Hansom, but the look of query was greeted 
with indifference, but was it unrecognized } 

“ One thing more,” he added after a pause. “From 
Quelton I took horse to Wenham again, where I found 
out what I last told you, when my acquaintance with the 
old magistrate grew from formal to social ; and besides 
believing Marplot an incendiary they whisper of darker 
deeds. The only one left to bear the name of Ray 
was a child of Major Ray’s brother, a little .older than 
our client must be. She has disappeared and suspi- • 
cion points her finger, but there is not a shadow of 
proof.” 

“ Her name, sir ; tell me quickly her name.” 

‘ Maria.” 

“Yes, the same one I told you of as the one who 
stood between him and fortune, sir.” 

“ Yes, I remember that well, but there is no clue that 
Marplot has had the least possible way of reaching her ; 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 389 

no one has been to see her that is known of — no letter 
received. I have looked it well over, Mr. Hansom.” 

“ Have you looked that over ? Ha ! tell me now 
about chance? Yes, sir, where is chance now? would 
chance put that in my hands ? Ha, sir, tell me,” and 
with trembling voice, shaking hand, and starting eye, was 
held before the astonished lawyer a paper which was 
drawn from a deep pocket in the dark yellow lining of 
the velvet cape. It was wrinkled, shrivelled, bleared and 
blistered by the river, which sorrowed that it must hold 
it and the one who carried it. . 

Mr. Thump opened it, made out here and there a 
word, and came to the signature S. S. Trout. The paper 
fell from his hand, and had it not lodged on his knee 
might have been broken ; for if it had struck the ground, 
so stiff and crackling was it, the probabilities were greater 
that it would have gone to pieces, than the possibilities 
were of its preservation. 

For a moment he could not speak, but when astonish- 
ment was a little mastered, he stammered forth, “ I can- 
not, I surely cannot believe that, Mr. Hansom,” and 
taking up the paper with a look of horror as he again 
.gazed upon his partner’s name, continued, “ He is 
shrewd, avaricious, an egotist, but not a criminal ; I 
cannot think that. He is tender-hearted ofttimes when 
I least look for it. He could not do this — no, not this. 
Some one else may, but not Mr. Trout, surely. I see by 
the look of the paper it has been in the water; was .it 
found on the pretty girl we buried ? can it be she was his 
victim ? If so I am ready to hound him to the wall. 
What fair girl is safe if she was not?” and a look of dis- 
tress fell over the lawyer’s face. “ It makes me heart- 
sick, but I do not see why it should, either,” he added 
passing his hand across his brow, “ I do not see why it 
should, there is no other in his way.” 

“ W'e do not know, Mr. Thump, if there is, what 
might become of the innocent thing. He is sly, so sly 
you never know where, or how he finds out what he 
knows. And is he poor? no, sir, no. We know, Owlie, 
eh ? what we speak of when we say he has gold, the real 
yellow ringing gold, laid by— hid, sir, hid in the dirty 


390 


THUMP'S client. 


dingy hole he lives in at Poorly’s Resort. And gold 
will buy tell-tales — he offered a hundred pounds for that 
and these, sir, a hundred pounds — is 'that the offer of a 
poor man?” and as he spoke Mr. Hansom pointed to 
the paper in the lawyer’s hand, and from under his cloak 
brought forth the rest of those that had so long been in 
Gaff’s ample pocket. “ Let me read them to you, then I 
will tell you, sir, how I got them. Look, Owlie ; glitter, 
glisten, glow, and burn. Light me, light me.” 

The elder read what the reader heard Mr. Wallace 
and Isaac decipher ; the younger listened. The other 
letters were of a private nature, and of only so much in- 
terest to the reader as to give him the assurance that 
they would but serve to strengthen the hold they were 
gaining upon Marplot by identifying beyond doubt the 
body as that of Maria Ray. When he had finished, Mr. 
Hansom with exultation recounted the way in which 
these had been secured by Mr. Wallace, and added, 
“ Where now is chance, sir ? I was ready for them, and 
they were given me ; not chanced into my keeping, but 
were given me, sir ; given me.” 

“Can I have seen this Mr. Wallace, I wonder?” asked 
the lawyer after he had weighed well with the other the 
evidence found and both had decided to trap their game 
as speedily as possible, lest he might harm them more — 
“ Leave a bit of slime that we might slip on, sir,” as Mr. 
Hansom put it. 

“ It might be,” returned the latter in reply to Mr. 
Thump’s query, “ he goes to Isaac Harold’s ; he is a 
faithful, sir, a faithful, true man.” 

“ Oh yes, he must be the one whom I saw in Blue 
Bottle Court a few mornings ago. He spoke of you, sir, 
and he is the one who got possession of the papers. 
Why, see here, see here, Mr. Hansom,” exclaimed Mr. 
Thump, suddenly looking up and ceasing the tapping of 
his fingers on the table, “ I saw him months ago ; he 
called upon Mr. Trout.” 

“ Yes, I sent him ; he has called since too, sir, while 
you were away. That is how I know what is planned. 
The blind man called on him yesterday ; yes, I sent him, 
sir, sent him. Would Mr; Hansom go himself? Ah, no. 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 


391 

sir, no; why I can tell you just what your partner will do, 
sir, if he can. Now, it is to be seen which is the better 
man, he or Marplot. If we get the latter, sir, the former 
will run ; if we get the former, sir, the latter will win.” 

“ But I must convince myself, perfectly, that this is 
the writing of Mr. Trout,” and the young partner of 
the once crafty and cunning, began assorting the papers 
before him and selected that signed S. S. Trout. “ I will 
not do him a wrong for the world. He has always been 
kind and considerate of my faults and infirmities, and I 
am inclined to feel so for his, although I must admit he 
is dishonest, dishonorable, but, as I said before, not a 
criminal I am sure ; see here, I have it, Mr. Hansom. 
Let us go to my office and compare this closely with his 
own handwriting. It may be, and I hope it will be, that 
here is another grip on Marplot. Mr. Trout will be out 
after four o’clock,” he added as he saw some hesitancy 
on the part of Mr. Hansom to comply ; it is now that 
hour, and the way there is not a short one. Besides, I 
have something there that may aid me, too.” 

“ What say you, Owlie, shall we go Yes, sir, yes, she 
glistened, we will go. Take these papers, sir; I do not 
want them with me. If we have an adviser, you know, 
he must take care of our documents,” and Mr. Hansom 
swept the piles and packages toward the lawyer, drew his 
cloak about him, took up his hat, adjusted the curls and 
the beard, smoothed the bird, put the silver whistle to 
his lips and blew a soft low note. The dog still exactly 
as he had first placed himself, relaxed in hearing and 
muscle, stood up, shook off the weariness of one attitude 
for so long, and leaped into the room. “ Good Rover, 
good dog !” said his master with a pat, “ you did well, sir, 
well ; now for some meat — ask the mistress below stairs. 
Be a good fellow, and I will come back for you.” 

Rover licked and lapped the hand, the seal ring 
with its sunken crest, patted the cloak, cast admiring 
glances at the golden bird — for one of which, dearie, in 
Blue Bottle Court, would have fluttered and flustered a 
week after — and betook himself below : the master and 
his adviser soon followed. The fly, the horse, the 
driver were wdthout ; the last had been bidden to await 


392 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


for further orders ; and so grateful were the three to the 
man who had made their one “ wenture” in life a suc- 
cessful one, though it came late, that they would have 
waited till time crumbled them to atoms before they 
would disobey his commands. 

“We will ride — yes, sir, you and Owlie and myself. 
Nothing like one’s own vehicle at hand, if it be only 
a fly, sir,” laughed Mr. Hansom as they got in. The 
driver took the order — “ to Lunley Lane,” closed the 
door with a swing and a bang as if it were as strong as 
the gate of a fortress, took the ribbons in his hand, and 
the dog with a longing look watched their departure. 

On the way Mr. Hansom recounted the finding of 
Tom Barley and the news he had gleaned from him 
when he began to awake. It differed not much from 
what Mr. Thump had learned from the same source, save 
that he found Mr. Barley meant to visit Ivandale in the 
interest of Trout, thus acting for him and Marplot to- 
gether and separately. 

The horse did not jerk his way now. His hoofs had 
been hardened when Mr. Hansom had him sent to the 
veterinarian for general repairs, with as many particular 
ones as were consistent with his present age and past 
deprivations. Besides brightening all over, the animal 
found hoofs and wind much improved. The former he 
could use firmly and surely, the latter he was not in 
danger of losing so readily as he had been. The jour- 
ney, therefore, to the office of Mr. Thump, was not so 
long as might have been expected. 

The clerk was alone. He recognized Mr. Hansom, 
but had the good sense not to obtrude upon that gentle- 
man with the expression of gratitude that was in his 
heart and on his lips. They gained the private office, 
sat down, and Mr. Thump began at once comparing the 
S. S. Trout of the paper with the S. S. Trout they knew 
to be his own chirography. 

“ It is like when I hold it so, exactly,” said Mr. 
Thump, “ and when I hold it so, I see it is not,” and 
he put them both upon the right and then upon the left. 
But the more he looked the more he grew puzzled and 
the greater the fear in his heart that it was genuine. 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. 


393 


Mr. Hansom ventured no opinion. He leaned back 
upon the same leather-covered chair that he had oc- 
cupied upon his last visit to Mr. Thump’s cozy quarters. 
He had more leisure time now to spend upon his attire, 
or rather its arranging and rearranging; this he did with 
now and then a pat of the bird and a holding her nearer 
the name, as if she might throw some light. 

The outer door opened softly, but the clerk who was 
not so drowsy now, heard it and looked up into a face 
not much older than his own in years, but a lifetime 
older in wickedness. 

“Mr. Trout? now, Mr. Trout?” and the visitor ad- 
vanced with a supercilious air towards the clerk, who 
not liking, at a glance, the fellow, and anxious to make 
speedy work with his errand, took what he held, a letter, 
and tapped at the door of Mr. Thump’s room. 

“ Come in, come in.” 

“For Mr. Trout, sir,” and it was handed to the 
partner of that gentleman. 

“Say to the bearer, that Mr. Trout is not in, and I 
cannot say when he will be, but that the letter will be 
safe with me until he comes.” The clerk took the mes- 
sage without and soon returned. 

“ The young man who brought it, sir, says he will 
take the letter back, as he had orders not to leave it un- 
less Mr. Trout was in,” was the message brought back by 
the same clerk in the same methodical manner in which 
the previous one had been taken out. 

Mr. Hansom just then leaned so far forward upon 
the owl and the cane, as if in the act of bringing himself 
on his feet preparatory to putting in motion his legs, that 
it brought the letter quite under his nose, and age in his 
case not having taken any of the liberties it often does 
with the eyes of those who are on the other side of the 
hill, he could see as clearly and as far as in youth, so he 
caught quickly the address, “S. S. Trout, Esq,, Lunley 
Lane.” Idie lawyer caught at the same time the peculiar 
cramp and slant of the letters and the slight greasy track 
which had been left by the hand as it passed over the 
paper, and held it close to the signature before him. 
The T, the S were the same ; the effort to copy was 


394 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


plain. The elderly gentleman having thrown off his 
cloak, now fumbled about his curls, his collar, his broad 
silken watch-guard that went around his neck and was 
stayed by a gold slide, and trying to appear disinterested 
before the clerk, sat back again in the leather-cushioned 
chair and looked at the law-books upon the right flank. 

“Who brings this.?’’ asked the lawyer still holding the 
letter and taking in well again the slant, the cramp, and 
general style of the address. 

“ A young man, sir, not an ofhce-boy either ; a man 
that’s too smartly dressed for that,’’ returned the clerk. 
“ Striped .breeches, plaid coat, red necktie, with stand-up 
dickey, soiled linen, low shoes, dusty stockings, high hat 
on one side, blear eyes that wink, or one that winks 
knowingly at you, says everything as if he were biting at 
his words.’’ 

“ That will do,’’ returned Mr. Thump, “ hand this to 
him without comment, but if he says aught to you, give 
it me at once.’’ 

The curtained door closed, and soon the outer one 
was heard to follow its example. 

“That is from Marplot, sir, from Marplot; how lucky 
we came. Is it chance now .?’’ said Mr. Hansom leaving 
the law-books in the rear. “You must make a point of 
that.” 

“Yes, sir, at once. You must excuse me, I shall 
have occasion to stroll leisurely the same way this young 
man does just now,” and the lawyer arose, put on his 
hat, took a light cane, drew on a pair of gloves, and gave 
himself the air of one who was looking about London for 
pleasure, with no particular aim and no particular desire 
to have one. “ Yoli will see that I am obliged to make 
haste, Mr. Hansom.” 

“ And I will follow slowly in the fly, sir,” returned 
the other, fastening at the throat the heavy cloak with its 
embossed lion’s claw and eagle’s beak. “ Owlie and I, 
sir, will keep well behind' and take you in any time, sir. 
You have no scruples now, I hope. I forgot to ask you 
about them, we had so many things to ask. Where are 
the scruples, Mr. Lawyer, where ?” 

“ Gone, gone,” came from Mr. Thump as he hurried 


CHANCE NOT RECOGNIZED. ' 395 

out; “gone, when so much needs righting. Good day, 
good day.” 

Mr. Thump hurried out and down, but there the 
hurry ceased. The young man with the red necktie 
and stand-up dicky was also in no hurry, so he had not 
by that time got beyond the boundary of the Lane. He 
sauntered and gazed; Mr. Thump did the same, but at 
a very respectful distance. He turned to the Wilton and 
looked up, then down ; a passer-by jostled him, and he 
turned resentfully, while his face rivalled in an instant 
his tie in color, but the passer-by either did not notice 
him, or thought him not worth the notice, for upon the 
resentful turning there was no one to combat. 

“ He is quick tempered,” said Mr. Thump. He did 
not wait for another jostling, but took his way down the 
Wilton till he came to the corner of Cheatem Street. 
Here he halted and looked in to that small thoroughfare 
as if he was familiar with it and also with somebody who 
dwelt therein. Not finding the somebody to come forth 
even to the corner to greet him, he walked on. After the 
halt had been short, and after several squares of saunter- 
ing and gazing he drew forth a silver watch of generous 
size and dirt-dimmed case ; this he consulted and then 
hurried on. Mr. Thump now did the same. 

“ He is to meet somebody or something,” said that 
gentleman again to himself. 

Off the Wilton soon and down Helpmeet Street till 
he reached a covered way between two dingy old ware- 
houses, that had stood in the smoke and fog of London 
till not one trace of their original color remained. 

“ Ha,” again said the lawyer, “ I know where that 
leads to, for many a time I have run through there when 
I was a boy and when Meg was — a — a — girl.” His face 
flushed, but his pace never slackened. “ It is a short cut 
to Flood Street. It will never do to follow him through 
there, but I can hurry around the travelled way and be 
as far behind as I ought.” 

The covered way led, as Mr. Thump said, to Flood 
Street ; down this went the red tie and stand-up dicky till 
Wreckers Court was neared. Here he paused and looked 
anxiously into the court and a*tl about, but saw not what 


39 ^ 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


he had come for, for. he muttered, “Fooled, knew it — 
fourth time — tide high — no go that — always fooled — look 
again,” and he strolled down where Snatcher lay at her 
ease in full water, along the shore a little, when he sud- 
denly wheeled and made his way back into the face of 
Mr. Thump, who was not looking for this move. How- 
ever, the wearer of the tie and dicky had no suspicion 
who he was, and kept on till he reached Mayfair ; and 
when the turn from that into Blue Bottle Court came, he 
took it and took himself up to the last house at the end 
and disappeared in the doorway with as much freedom 
and familiarity as if he had often been there before. It 
was at an hour of the day when there were many passers, 
and so his follower was not noticed by his footsteps. Hav- 
ing seen him thus far, Mr. Thump turned to consult Mr. 
Hansom, who was not far behind in the fly. 


CHAPTER XXXIX:. 

MISS RAY BECOMES EASILY CONVINCED THAT IT IS QUITE 
THE MORNING FOR A RIDE. 

The rosette was still full and unrumpled ; its pearl 
buckle heart was undimmed ; the tiny kid slipper that 
bore them both knew that it was wearing away the two- 
ply when it patted upon it impatiently or affectedly, and 
it also knew it was gaining a firm hold on the heart of its 
mistress’s admirer. So, of course, lest it should look 
worn and rusty, it was laid carefully by and only put on 
when Zeke tapped, opened, bowed, presented the card of 
S. S. Trout, grinned and sometimes said to himself as he 
danced off the landing and by sundry catches at the rail- 
ing and headlong plunges at the wall till he got equili- 
brium, which was not far from the bottom step, “ Je-ru- 
salem, ain’t she pretty this mornin’.” 

All of the above he did a few mornings after the 
blind man had had audience with the once crafty and 


MISS RAY CONVINCED. 


397 


cunning Trout, who had been frequent in his calls upon 
Miss Ray, and not ungenerous in his remittances, al- 
though he professed that a friend furnished him with 
them for her. “ The same one,” she would ask, “ to 
whom I am indebted for finding me ?” The reply was 
either a quiet affirmation or an evasive and unsatisfac- 
tory one. But it did not touch Miss Ray’s pride to live 
upon the bounty of anyone known or unknown. She 
was pretty she knew; there was a daintiness, a sweetness, 
a charm about her that was fascinating without being 
loving. The refinement was natural, it was so thor- 
oughly a part of herself that it never could have been ac- 
quired. She had no heart, because she had no particular 
use for one. She had been taken to America when she 
was very young, and had been provided for in a meagre 
sort of way by somebody, being always told that she was 
an inheritor of estates in England ; so, although she did 
not afterwards tell Mr. Trout, she was not surprised 
when the summons came, but found herself repeatedly 
saying, “ Can it be true.? ” when she handled a supply of 
money sufficient to pay her passage to England and 
leave ample for, to her, a most complete outfit of things 
needful and ornamental. 

Thus equipped she crossed the sea ; and what young 
woman would not ? This London solicitor had even 
written to the captain of the steamer on which he had 
told her to sail, implying that her possessions would soon 
be vast and attention to her personal comfort would be 
in future rewarded. This was unnecessary, for captain, 
officers, passengers, and crew were alike pleased with her 
pretty face, soft, insinuating manners, and paid her trib- 
ute accordingly. However, her voyage had not been 
quite comfortable, for there was somebody aboard who 
charmed and chilled her, a woman whose face stirred up 
in the heart of the girl memories so illy defined that she 
could not make them plain enough to decide whence or 
how they sprung. When the vessel landed, this woman 
was gone ; when the railway coach halted in London and 
Miss Ray alighted, she was not there ; when the cab drew 
up before No. 40 Chapel Street, she looked to see her 
bid welcome, but Zeke appeared, Mrs. Mutter/ollowed. 


398 


THUMP’S CLIENT. . 


The dread of seeing that face had kept her close with- 
in doors, and on account of this seclusion Mr. Trout had 
not found it necessary to remunerate the blind man for 
service at the corner of Chapel Street. 

On this particular morning Miss Ray sat before the 
mirror, whose reflective and refractive powers were still 
awry, yet it always did its best for her, — the fact was the 
little bit of illy moulded and imperfectly foiled glass was 
fond of her ; for she had never threatened to smash it 
as a homelier-faced woman would have done ; she only 
laughed at its contortions and said to it now and then, 
“ What a sham you are for a mirror ; ” so she sat before 
it and looked and talked. Let us listen. 

“ He’s been here often, but upon the estate’s affairs 
only twice. Let me see,” and she patted her pretty foot ; 
it had on an old kid shoe now, for the slipper was not 
sure he would call so early and was resting, recruiting 
strength for renewed attacks upon the two-ply, and at the 
same time a patting upon and luring over of the heart of 
one who would soon tread softly and stealthily the same 
two-ply — “ let me see ; the last time we talked about 
what I was to do he retreated in confusion under my 
most positive statement that I was nearing twenty-two 
and my mother had wicked eyes. Since then, I think he 
has intended many times to tell me what I was to say, 
but truth is, truth is — ah, “ah, he’s just the right age, well, 
yes,” and she nodded to her face in the mirror. “ I 
really do not see why not. This estate is either in the 
hands of somebody who is slow or else who is not sure. 
Much of both, I fancy, and more of the latter; yes, 1 
think I will, ah, ah ! I am not made for work ; I am 
made to be petted and praised and provided for,” and 
she tossed off the old shoe, and was just putting her 
dainty toes into the slippers, when, tap, tap. 

It was Zeke, with a card, who ventured in a whisper 
as he looked admiringly at her, “ ’E’s hawful smartened 
hin ’is ways this mornin’,” and closed the door. 

Miss Ray was energetic to that extent that if she 
wanted a pretty garment, or rather a garment to make 
her look still prettier, and could not pay her mantua- 
maker for its make-up, she did what was a characteristic 


MISS RAY CONVINCED, 


399 


of the people she had so long dwelt among across the 
Atlantic — she made it herself ; so after the slippers were 
well upon the feet, a daintily ruffled ruby-colored morn- 
ing dress was soon well upon her shoulders. It was 
nondescript, with its tucks here, plaits there, and gathers 
all around. She knew what suited her, and she had so 
made it. The blue ribbons capped it like a crown upon 
a queen, and if Mr. Trout had a wavering of determina- 
tion as to his course in this matter, as to his duty — the 
blind man had so called it — regarding the protection of 
this innocent little creature, it vanished when she en- 
tered the room all smiles and welcomes, blushes and 
charms. She gave him her hand ; he took it, bowed low 
over it, pressed it to his lips, withdrew it, pressed it 
again, still holding it looked up into her face, smiled not 
so blandly as sickly — he meant it for loving — shook his 
head slowly, and — either because his heart was too full 
to allow of his speaking or because tending toward the 
portly he was quite out of breath — without saying a 
word, led her to a seat and placed himself beside her, 
and, when respiration was in a measure restored to its 
even tenor, he suddenly let go of the great seal Avhich the 
other hand was all the while grasping, as if for courage 
and strength from its massiveness, and it actually stole 
with its arm following closely about her waist. She 
sat down — displeased 1 Oh, no, she had been looking for 
something of the kind for many weeks, but she did not 
of course know the precise form it would appear in — 
whether of the purely sentimental and sighing, the more 
formal and business-like, or with a tinge of both ; so, 
while putting on the air of innocence, trembling, bowing 
abashed, eyes on the ground — or it might be on the 
pretty rosette, for it was peeping forth — hands toying 
with a silken tassel nervously — and at the same time 
noting the match it was for the stuff of the dress — this 
was the first time she had worn it — ard waited. 

“ It is a pleasant morning. Miss Ray,” and the arm 
about her waist tightened a little, a very little, while the 
hand that held hers let go and sou^Lht the imaginary bit 
of dust upon the lustrous broadc'oth over the knee, 
— not the bit, not the knee, but the broadcloth — which 


400 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


by the way, the lady saw was new, entirely new. This 
discovery, with the almost imperceptible squeeze at the 
waist, agreed so well that she did not mind the very com- 
mon and out-of-place remark upon the weather. 

“ Is it ?” she simpered “ I — yes — well, I don’t know, 
I suppose it is though.” 

“ Very, and bright, too,” was again ventured by the 
smiling Trout, with a decided closing in of the arm this 
time and a drawing nearer every way. 

“ It looks so, indeed,” whispered the lady while the 
slipper patted nervously and the tassel was none the 
less energetic. 

“ Quite the morning for a ride — ” He stopped short, 
it was evident he had not said what he meant to, or else 
meant to say more, for that simple statement was quite 
as void as one of his blandest smiles. 

To this Miss Ray volunteered no acquiescence in 
‘words, but in manner — oh ! it was so charmingly con- 
fused and so confusingly charming that he took more 
breath, more heart — or rather courage — and letting go 
pursuit after the dust-bit ventured with the rising in- 
flection — “to a church as he took again her hand. 

She did not withdraw it, and it trembled a little, just 
enough to let him know she mistrusted why a ride to 
church would be quite the thing on that morning — no, 
that that morning was quite the thing for a ride to a 
church ; so as she could not speak she sighed, he sighed, 
gave her waist a very, very decided pressure this time, 
so much so that her head leaned towards his shoulder — 
if a flower is bent at its stem it droops. 

“You could go in Miss — Miss Ray,” he tried to 
murmur it, but his shortness of breath and general 
nervousness made it more like a hoarse, jerky whisper, 
“and — and come out Mrs. — Mrs. Trout, you “know.” 
Frightened at his daring, and so immensely relieved that 
he had dared, he abruptly dropped her hand again and 
seized the seal and the fob-chain, then realizing that he 
had done quite the wrong thing at the wrong time, he 
thought to make it seem that he had done the right 
thing at the right time and pulled out a massive time- 
keeper, as if he was due with Miss Ray at the church at 


M/SS RAY CONVINCED, 


401 


some stated moment and he was timing himself to see 
how much more pressing of the waist and holding of the 
hand could be done and yet keep the appointment. 

Ton honor it had been but five minutes since Miss 
Ray had entered the room and the case had already 
gone to the jury, so quickly, so expeditiously had he 
conducted proceedings, and he had allowed himself half 
an hour for argument and half an hour for preparation 
on the part of Miss Ray for the suitable arranging of her 
dress for the proposed visit ; so, with full twenty-five 
minutes margin, he gave himself up to the delight of 
touching once more the dainty fingers, closing in more 
upon the slender waist and — and — oh, Trout ! oh, wily 
Trout ! whoever thought to write it — listening to the sigh- 
ing and whispering. The sighing was supposed to come 
from the depths of a very loving heart, but its origin was 
not far from a pair of lovely lips from which also the 
whispering came as the flower completely broken at the 
stem let its head drop upon Mr. Trout’s shoulder, but 
with such a nicety of aim that the white morning collar 
was hot turned at the corners, that the silver barb was 
not thrust out of place, that the pretty coil of wavy hair 
was not in the least danger of being rendered unsym- 
metrical, that the trained curls at the side were all that 
moved, and they freed themselves just at the right time — 
they fell upon the lustrous broadcloth shoulder; and 
Mr. Trout was nearer heaven when they fell and a few 
moments after, than we fear he will be again for a long 
time to come. 

But let us return to the sighing and whispering. The 
former continued for some little time, and then fearing 
Mr. Trout was contemplating — or it might be going to 
do it without contemplating — resting his round, shiny 
head 'against hers, and thus actually threatening the top 
of the pretty coil, the latter thought it time to be heard, 
and so the head was raised and the pretty cold eyes 
turned full upon the small twinkling orbs of the once 
crafty and cunning lawyer. As the lips moved he bent 
to listen ; but she had the advantage — the barb and coil 
were in the background, safe from intrusion — for his 
ear must come the nearest to her now, of course, as he 


402 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


was to hear her whisper, It would be so charming and 
select.” 

“ We know each other so well, dear,” and the little 
hand was raised to the bland mouth before the word 
dear ” was quite finished. It sounded so strangely to 
Mr. Trout to hear it himself, that he did not give it full 
tone, but checked it off with a kiss upon the finger tips. 

“ Yes,” simpered Miss Ray holding up her head and 
at once seeking the coil, the barb, the curls, to see that 
they had played their part as well as she had hers, “of 
course we do — so well — and the church.?” 

“ I know of one open at twelve.” Five minutes more 
having elapsed since Mr. Trout last looked, he noted 
now only twenty on the margin, so he said without 
seeming in a hurry, “ It is now twenty minutes before 
eleven. That gives us ample time, I believe,” he added 
with the most business-like precision, “ I have omitted 
nothing.” He drew a tiny box from his waistcoat 
pocket and smiled with meaning for once, as he looked 
at her wedding finger. As the box disappeared, a paper 
peeped out just enough to show that the civil awaited 
the sanction of the clerical. “ A hansom is just around 
the corner ; I thought it would save so many eyes from 
peering and straining themselves blind. How fortunate 
we have been, indeed, not to be intruded upon ; I have 
never liked that door,” and he pointed to the same one 
behind which Mrs. Mutter and Mrs. Crowfoot had once 
stationed themselves. 

“ But the landlady is out buying for dinner, and the 
second-floor front can’t walk — rheumatism ; so I did not 
feel anxious,” laughed Miss Ray. “Only the applicants 
were to be dreaded.” 

“ I was the only applicant this morning, fortunately,” 
smiled Mr. Trout rubbing again the shiny knee, “and I 
hope I secured the only vacancy in your heart ; none 
before me, dear.?” This time the “ dear ” came without 
the choking, although the look was a little hang-down. 

“ Yes, yes,” sighed Miss Ray, “ nobody so worthy as 
— what shall I call you ?” 

“ My first, my surname .?” 

“ Yes, you call me Margaret, and I must call you — ” 


MISS RAY CONVINCED. 403 

“ My name is Selwyn Sellers Trout,” replied the 
owner of the euphoneous title. 

‘‘Then, I will call you Sell, ha, ha!” she laughed so 
daintily, and as she arose patted him upon the shoulder 
very much as one would pat a dog for the purpose of 
conciliating him, not for the real love of caressing him. 
“ Now I will make ready, if you will excuse me a few mo- 
ments, and I will leave you in the good and consoling 
company of dear Mr. Mutter,” and she pointed to the 
portrait of that most worthy and considerably deceased 
individual; 

The door closed ; he heard her, or he thought he did, 
ha, ha ! very softly as she tripped up the stairs to the 
second floor end room. There let us follow. 

The slippers had done their work for that day at 
least, a pair of highly cut, snugly fitting boots super- 
seded them, the ruby-colored morning dress was displaced 
for a gray street attire of silk and serge, so artistically 
united, mingled and matched that it was plainly the work 
of its wearer, as was also the charming little bonnet not 
of the serge but the silk, with ribbon and plume to match 
and flowers to contrast ; the lace at the throat was soft 
though not antique, it was becoming though not woven 
to order ; the gloves fitted to perfection. The mirror 
had never in all its troubled, worried life come so near 
reflecting anything so correctly as it did the pretty face 
and figure of the bride elect upon that bright morning. 
A mantle thrown over her arm to protect her against the 
frost of the air or the dampness of the church, and Miss 
Ray appeared before her -enchanted lover. 

Meantime he had been stealthily treading up and 
down upon the two-ply, now and then passing his hand 
across his eyes as if to awaken himself or satisfy himself 
that he was awake. He was about to wed a young lady 
whom he loved as much as he could anybody. She was 
not the beyond-doubt-established-and-rightful heiress to 
Ivandale, but he could easily make her so. The facili- 
ties for training her to a part were not tTie most satisfac- 
tory in the public room of a lodging-house, so he was 
about to do quite the best thing that he could do, and he 
surveyed himself in the gilt-framed glass that hung upon 


404 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


one side of the room : his boots were new, glove fitting, 
well polished ; his fob-chain had been duly chamoied by 
the jeweller, and it with the great seal dangled proudly 
over the well cut, well made broadcloth that incased him 
from hip to heel ; the coat, the waistcoat were suited 
to the latter in style and texture ; the linen was spot- 
less, glossy; the tie was white, about this he had studied 
much. He had consulted books, but he dare not consult 
persons. He knew a full dress demanded it, but about 
so private an affair he could not determine till he saw it 
around the rather broad standing-up dicky, and finding it 
becoming, his vanity dictated the wearing of it. His hat 
was silk, a little wide in the brim and quite tall in the 
body. His head had been well rubbed, the crown, that 
is, with the silk pad. In short, Mr. Trout, as he drew 
over his soft white hands a pair of gloves of fine pliable 
fabric, considered himself a most perfectly arrayed bride- 
groom. Like Miss Ray he threw over his arm an outer 
covering, to which he added hers, and thus arrayed they 
stepped out of No. 40 without the knowledge of Mrs. 
Mutter, without the gaze of Mrs. Crowfoot, but not with- 
out a peep from Zeke behind the door of a room at the 
end of the passage, who immediately carried his suspi- 
cions to Mary Ann, and that good creature to satisfy the 
“ b’y’s longin’ to know too much,” agreed to rub the 
knives and forks for him while he ran out by the reaf 
entrance and watched, not that by so doing her curiosity 
was one bit appeased, oh, no ! 

The hansom was there ; the driver dismounted, the 
door was opened. Miss Ray and Mr. Trout entered and 
were driven to a church, the morning was so bright for 
such a ride. 

Strange to say, the minister of the church was there, 
the beadle was there, but no one else was there, and both 
seemed awaiting something, somebody. 

“ We are fortunate,” said Mr. Trout with his blandest 
smile as they alighted. 

The minister took his place, the bridal pair took 
theirs, but where were the witnesses ? Who was to give 
the bride away } Mr. Trout thought he had forgotten 
nothing, and yet he had, so the giving away lay between 


5 / 7 ? JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS. 405 

the driver of the hansom and the beadle. Miss Ray not 
being quite pleased with the selectness of the affair made 
the best of it, however, and chose the beadle. The re- 
sponses were given, the ring given to the priest, from the 
priest to the groom, and by him placed upon the finger 
of the bride. The contract was signed, witnessed by the 
driver and the beadle, and she who had entered as Miss 
Margaret Ray passed out Mrs. Selwyn Sellers Trout. 


CHAPTER XL. 

SIR JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS, TO THE DELIGHT OF THE 
LITTLE MAN. 

The cough was feebler as the weather grew colder,- 
but it was none the less painful. The ten-pound note 
had brought to the sufferer cordials to soothe and coals 
to warm, although as to the latter. Miss Thump had not 
allowed the supply to run out, but there was a feeling of 
independence in buying for herself which the woman en- 
joyed. She had not been so poor long, and her only 
child left from a goodly-sized family, was not one who 
found the Blue Bottle Court at all to his taste or breed- 
ing. The husband and father had not been long from 
their hourly care. He was once a sturdy, strong-limbed 
man, and in his strength defied aught to harm him. But 
the challenge came in an unlooked-for moment. He 
was a mechanic of skill, and had not so much to depend 
upon his hands for ample wages, as upon his head, for he 
was master in his trade, a general overlooker and mana- 
ger of many. He was daring, and the building was only 
a shell ; its frame had but just been reared from the 
ground, when he climbed, despite remonstrance, to see 
what was wrong in the joining of two beams ; he reached 
them just as they concluded to part company entirely ; 
they fell, taking him with them. From that hour the 
mother and son nursed him tenderly, patiently, till his 


4o6 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


soul climbed to a mansion that was reared for him before 
the world had been called into existence, whose beams 
are joined by the rivets of a good Father’s love ; whose 
frame can never fall, for it is upheld by strength that 
eternity cannot weaken. His earnings, carefully in- 
vested, had little by little dwindled away ; and when he 
was about to bid them farewell, he stretched out his 
hands, while his lips moved as if imploring the aid of the 
unseen for these his wife and child that he must leave 
penniless, and, if the landlord was not a tender-hearted 
man, soon to be homeless. The woman had never been 
robust, and she had never been a heavy worker, for the 
arm that she had leaned upon was strong, and the heart 
that she had trusted was kind and generous, so the work 
was done by others. When left alone with her boy she 
was forced to do what she could for their bread. As 
each quarter’s rent was paid a poorer lodging was sought 
for ; as the cough, with its sting through the breast came, 
less labor was performed, less money was earned. So, at 
last. Blue Bottle’s poor lodging-house found her and her 
boy who could not get work that was constant, nor pay 
that was good — and soon after this Miss Thump found 
them. The son, as we already know, soon had a seat 
upon the clerk’s stool in the office of Trout & Thi\mp. 
Clothes he needed for the sake of respectability, and 
these the mother made him buy with his first pay ; so 
with what he had earned since, with what Miss Thump, 
Miss Hamper and Meg brought, she was in no great need, 
but still lacking many things that as an invalid she 
longed but would not ask for ; some of these the ten- 
pound note, laid in her lap by Mr. Hansom, had bought. 
There was something besides the love of her boy that 
held her to earth, and ever since Mr. Hansom’s visit she 
had listened and longed for its repetition. She knew 
though her strength was failing that the hour of her de- 
parture was not near, for her work was not done, her trust 
had not been delivered. 

She was pillowed in a chair with her feet upon a cush- 
ion of Meg’s make, and Meg herself sat near. She had 
been reading to her ; now she was talking. They both 
heard a strange foot-fall upon the stairs, and listened. 


5 //? JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS. 407 

It came near the door, stopped, then passed on up to the 
next. flight and to the room occupied by the woman to 
whom Meg was carrying breakfast upon the morning 
when the wind played hide, and then went to seek Isaac 
and his cloak — the woman who had moved from Wreck- 
ers Court — the woman who did not like to look at young 
girls. There was a peculiar and somewhat lengthy tap- 
ping upon the door. Thrice the visitor’s fingers struck 
gently the frail panel ; a pause, twice they struck — an- 
other pause — once, and the voice from within said, 

“ Come in.” 

“ I do not like that step or that man,” said Meg, after 
they had heard this, and looked at each other question- 
ingly. “He used to come to Wreckers to see her. I 
always went away when he came.” 

“ What does he look like .?” asked the woman with 
some display of curiosity. 

“ I never look at him,” returned the girl, with an ex- 
pression on her face as if the thought brought repulsion, 

“ I only feel that he is bad. Yes, I did look at him once, 
the first time I ever saw him come ; but I have never 
looked since. He is bad, bad, I know, and I am afraid 
she is not very good. I do not like to say so, but I feel 
it. She says she does not like to see young folks near 
her, and that does not seem right, do you think so.^” 

“ No, no, there must be something wrong there; but 
dear, never mind,” said the woman softly, as she saw the 
sadness in Meg’s eyes, “ do not take it so to heart ; you 
are not to blame. Hark ! I hear a step. Yes, I do; and 
a cane. Yes, yes ; maybe it is the old gentleman with ^ 
the gray curls ; he had a cane. I do want to see him, if 
it is only ” — she had not finished, when the cane, the step 
stopped at her door — tap, tap, in.a cheery way, and Meg 
arose, and before her hand had reached the latch, she 
stood face to face with John Hansom. 

He looked up, and over his features swept light and 
shadow so rapidly, that Meg, in thinking of him after- 
ward, could not tell which he seemed the most fascinat- 
ing in, the shade or the shine, for charmed with him she 
was at once, and put out her hand saying, “ This is good 
Mr. Hansom, I know ; may I not shake hands with him ?” 


4o8 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“ And this is Miss Meg the charitable,” he returned 
with some effort to speak as he put out from under the 
velvet cape his right hand with its crested ring. “ I have 
often heard of your kind deeds, and am most honored in 
greeting you,” he continued as he took her little hand, 
held it still for a few seconds, and put it softly down at 
her side as if it were lifeless. A chill crept over her, not 
of dread, for it left peace ; not of horror, for at once her 
heart was aglow. 

He did not wait for her to reply, but turned at once 
to the invalid and said, “ How are you, ma’m, to day ? 
Better, it is to be hoped.” 

“ Much better, thank you,” was the pleasant reply, 
“ for the luxuries your generous gift provided. How 
shall I thank you, sir, for it, and to a stranger, too ? 
Surely heaven sent you, and sent, too, the good people 
who have cared so generously for me. And this one,” 
she pointed to Meg, “ I call my good angel. She is 
nothing short.” 

“ I have no doubt of it, ma'm,” said Mr. Hansom with- 
out venturing a look towards the young girl, who was 
busying herself about the room, “ I have not, indeed, for 
I know there are such things as angels on earth.” 

“ And I shall call you one too,” came from the thin, 
colorless lips while a bright light shone in the eyes, “ for 
you are such.” 

“ No, no, I am not, indeed, ma’m, you will find me 

far from that. I have a bird here,” and Mr. Hansom 

turned the subject, “ a pet bird, who always likes to be in 
, the li'ght, and I am sure you won’t mind, ma’m, if I put 

her where she can see. You may laugh, ma’m, but you 

can’t tell what a world of comfort I have taken vith her. 
She knows so much, and sees so much. She has lighted 
me through many a dark way. She glitters, glistens, 
glows and burns, ma’m, as you would never think she 
could. Come, Owlie, come,” and the hand that covered 
the golden bird was slid part way down the eb ny cane. 
Meg looked, and the woman looked, and bo h smiled 
when they saw what had lighted so well its u aster and 
noted it as an eccentricity of the man who w th all his 
oddity had a heart. 


5 /y? JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS. 409 

“ Do you have a physician, ma’m ? ” he asked as 
much because the pause was somewhat awkward after he 
had displayed the bird, as' anything else. 

“ No, no, there is no need of one,” murmured the 
woman, lying back on the pillow, which Meg smoothed 
for her. “ There is,” she continued when she felt stronger, 
“but one thing, or rather, one person I do need, and if 
I could but find him it would make the end easier to 
bear, for I should feel that what I was to do had been 
done ; and I have prayed, sir, that you might call again, 
for I thought, maybe, you might tell me of him. The 
gentry always know the gentry, and I beg pardon, sir, 
but you seem like some of the high folks I used to 
know,” and she glanced at the embossed crest that held 
down the velvet collar of the velvet cloak, while that 
sunken upon the ring did not escape her. 

“ My life has taken me, ma’m, among all classes, and 
we cannot associate with folks long without becoming 
like them ; so if I have the ways of the gentry, ma’m, I 
will say that I have been among them, it is true,” and 
the elderly gentleman adjusted a mongrel curl which fell 
a little forward and might throw the rest out of place, 
too, if not put back. “ If you feel faith in me, ma’m, I 
might say you may tell me the name of the one you 
would like to see, and I can tell you whether I know 
him, or can help to find him.” 

“ His name,” said the woman leaning forward with 
unnatural strength, “is James Lambert, Sir James Lam- 
bert. Do you know him ? Can you find him ? I have 
for him what can straighten the crooked and make him 
happy, if what I have always heard of him is true.” 

The hand that had slid down the ebony cane trem- 
bled a little, so the bird was not still, she fluttered, and 
her diamond eyes glittered and sparkled ; the cloak was 
drawn a little by the other hand for the sake of giving it 
something to do ; the throat was cleared once or twice 
with a suppressed ahem ! the chin which would have 
quivered was so laden with the long beard that it could 
not, so the beard was just a little drawn up and then 
let down before Mr. Hansom’s reply was ready, in a free 
and unmoved tone. 


410 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


“ I do know him, ma’m, and I can find him. When 
will you see him.^” 

“ Is he in London ?” almost cried the woman in her 

joy. 

He is, ma’m?” 

“ Let me see him as soon as you can find him, or 
something might happen and it would be too late. 
When can you bring hjm ? By seven to-night ? Can 
you, sir ?” and exhausted by this effort she lay back 
again, with Meg to soothe, and Meg to rest her. 

“ I can, ma’m, but do not get excited, and lest you 
might overdo, I will go, and let you rest. Would you 
know him, let me ask first, would you know him, ma’m ?” 

“Yes,” she replied, “ I saw him once, and I have 
heard him so often described that I can almost see him 
now.” 

“ Then you would be sure, ma’m, that he was no 
imposter, that is all I ask for ? I will go now and leave 
you again all I have about me. Come, Owlie, come, we 
will go.” And he threw into her lap what he could find 
in a pocket that was held by some garment beneath his 
cloak — crowns, half crowns, and shillings — he could not 
tell how much or how little. 

“ No thanks, none, if you please,” he said as she 
began to speak, “ Owlie will not like to hear them, so 
you will say nothing, ma’m. Is there anyone else here 
who is sick and needy, Miss Charitable ?” he asked 
turning to Meg who stood by with wondering gaze. 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, “ a woman up on the next 
floor; but there is a caller there just now, and I would 
not like to disturb her.” 

“Yes, yes, he came in before me. Ah ! so he went 
there, Owlie, eh ? I will see her the next time,” he said, 
and with a low bow passed out. 

Stump, stump, stump down the stairs, through the 
court, along Mayfair till he saw a fly creeping near, and 
into it, whose door was soon thrown open by the driver, 
Mr. Hansom passed, with the golden bird’s diamond 
eyes to light as he seated himself beside Mr. Thump the 
adviser. And thus we see what had resulted from the 
latter’s turning back to consult the elderly gentleman, 


5//? JAMES LAMBERT ARREARS. 4^1 

when he saw Ralph Speeder, for he it was, enter the last 
house at the end of Blue Bottle Court. 

“ Instinct again, sir ; we talked about it once, you 
know, and you called it instinct. I didn’t, because I can 
hear it sometimes, and one never hears instinct. Chance, 
then ? No, sir, no, not chance ; but whatever it is, it tells 
me that he has gone to the woman who says she would 
like a lawyer, the woman who is sick in the third flight, 
and that young man, sir, is Speeder, Ralph Speeder ; and 
it bodes no good to the cause — his visit. So keep a look- 
out there, sir, and if there is testimony, get it, but not to- 
night, sir. I forbid it being taken to-night, to-morrow 
any time, but not to-night.” 

All this Mr. Hansom said between the efforts he 
made to get back the breath he seemed to have lost in 
the hurry of nearing and entering the fly. When some- 
what rested, he continued, “ I ran in to see the sick 
woman, the mother of your clerk. The first time I came 
to your office he was drowsy, sir, very, and I asked him 
what made him so. ‘ Mother sick,’ he said, so I went to 
see, and found it true, sir, true. I found I could call 
again and see how she was, and I did, sir, I did, and 
found the young man was above stairs. What is doing 
all this ? Chance ? Instinct ? Do either of them give 
me just what I am ready for, and when I am ready for 
it.? No, sir, no. Now, mark me, just mark me right 
here. I shall have the keys of Ivandale when I have 
my man ready, which will be in time to take Cross-Bow 
coach to-morrow night, eh, Owlie ?” 

“ I trust you may, Mr. Hansom, but I shall believe 
it a special interposition if you do, and shall then ac- 
knowledge something besides chance at work in this 
matter,” said Mr. Thump as he alighted from the fly, 
for they were already on the Wilton, and he would not 
trouble them to take him nearer home. “ I would like 
to see you to-morrow, for there is still a little matter I 
have not acquainted you with.” 

“ Yes, yes, you will see me, and if not just when yoii 
want me call at Isaac Harold’s, he will know where I 
am, sir — busy, busy times now. Good day, good day,” 
and the advised shook warmly the adviser. The fly door 


412 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


closed, the fly, the quadruped, and the driver looked in 
the direction of Jericho, but not long ; they turned after 
a short distance and where they went the reader shall 
either be told or guess for himself hereafter. 

The day was ending; the- twilight — there was none in 
that part of London — so Meg, knowing the clerk would 
soon be home to his mother, put on her hood, her mantle, 
took her empty basket, and with the assurance that either 
herself or Mother Martha would come in the morning, 
bade the invalid good night, and hurried out of the 
court 'and along the ways that led to Wreckers; but 
from the moment she passed the one-storied dwelling of 
Isaac Harold she was not lost sight of by the Little Man 
till she stood within the door of Peleg Hamper’s home. 

Seven o’clock, and all Blue Bottle Court, with the 
green-grocer at one corner and the keeper of the tavern 
at the other thrown in, had never seen so stately, so 
elegant, so well-bred a personage as alighted from what 
deemed a private^ carriage, the gentleman’s own, one 
would have said by the way he comported himself with 
its bewigged, bepowdered and liveried footman and 
driver, who in turn were awed by his presence and as 
little annoyed by the neighborhood into which they had 
been ordered as if they were obeying the whims of a 
royal master. 

Walking haughtily but quickly along the court, he 
happened to strike his foot against the step that led to 
Isaac Harold’s humble door, and, as if impatient either 
at his own heedlessness or the audacity of the step for 
being in the way of so important a man as himself, mut- 
tered something and looked up at the window beside the 
door. 

The Little Man was there and saw him, but was not a 
bit awed at this greatness ; he watched it enter the end 
house and then said to himself, “ Ha, ha, ha ! that is 
good, so good that I must straighten out, indeed I 
must.” Sb down upon the open palms he fell, and then 
up and down, up and down the room he went, till com- 
ing upon his pointed shoes and stopping he laughed 
again. “ That must be Sir James, it must. I shall tell 
Great Heart, yes, I shall; but now I must to Mr. Hiram 


S//^ JAMES LAMBERT ARREARS. 


413 


•Boggs’, yes, and tell Joe to come home with me ; and 
how glad .1 am, how glad to have the chance to say, ‘joe, 
your tim'e has come for gathering; the sack you have had 
folded in your pack weeks and months, but nothing for 
you to put in it, now open, gather.’ This I must say 
because ^/ley tell me it will be,” 

So, with a word and a few grains for dearie ; a raking 
of the coals as the nights were growing cold : a putting in 
of fresh tea to the pot, which was set near for future con- 
venience ; a wrapping of the cloak well about him, with 
a plunge, many times, into the cushion of the brass pin 
with which he finally confined it at the throat as he mut- 
tered, “ Curse him, curse him a donning of the peaked 
hat; a snuffing out of the candle, which had been set in 
the window just before Sir James passed; a closing and 
locking of the outer door, and Isaac Harold set off for 
Cross-Cut Lane. He had been there on the day of the 
morning Hiram had brought him word of the no hopes 
concerning poor Mistress Boggs. He had found her 
speechless and almost powerless to move ; he had con- 
doled with her very much as he used to with Hiram, 
whom he had always before found speechless and power- 
less also, but from vastly different causes. 

So upon this night that he started for Joe he said to 
himself, “ No need this time of seeing Mistress Boggs, she 
will not know I call. Joe can say called away. Why I 
feel lighter on the feet and happier in the heart than I 
have for many a day. Can it be, Isaac, that you will be 
a gatherer of peaceful hours ygt.? No, no,” and he sadly 
turned off the Wilton upon Cross-Cut Lane. “ T/iey tell 
me I shall gather for Great-Heart, and when that is done 
the sack will be full ; I shall lay it down, and somebody 
else — ” 

“ Come in, come in,” broke his reverie, and looking 
up he found himself before the shop of '‘'‘Hirafii Boggs 
& Co.,” the sign read now, and almost under the doorway 
of the parrot, whose cage was just inside. 

Mr. Boggs came forward in clothes that fitted him, 
wearing a smile that became him, and bearing the general 
look of a man who had just begun to live. “Ah, Isaac,” 
said he extending his hand, “ glad to see you. Come 


414 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


back, come back, we can hear the customers when they 
ring and he led the Little Man to the room in the rear 
of the shop, where he stirred the fire, set on the kettle, 
opened the cupboard door and took therefrom a lemon, a 
bottle, some sugar, and before Isaac knew what he was 
doing handed him a glass of negus. 

“ I seldom take anything but tea,” said the visitor, 
“but—” 

“ But you will this time,” interrupted Hiram, “ it is in 
honor of the spikes.” 

Isaac looked questionihgly as he still held the un- 
tasted glass, and Boggs said as if in reply, “ The area, 
you know, the area ; 1 had it spiked to-day, and the cats 
can’t get over.” 

The Little Man looked as if he would straighten out, 
but out of respect to the invalid above stairs forebore, 
and only held himself at the knees, at the sides, while he 
laughed, and then took up the negus he had put down 
while he laughed and drank to “ May the spikes never 
rust off, Hiram, and may the cats never come into the 
area; if they do, may you never again be called to drive 
’em out.” 

“ Thank you, Isaac, I know you mean it ; thank you,” 
and Mr. Boggs drained his glass and put it upon the 
table. “ Did you see the new sign he asked as he 
nodded towards the shop, “ it looks so good I dream of it 
at night.” 

“ Yes, yes, I saw it; but what if she should ever see 
it.” 

“No hopes, no hopes; the man told me so. I had 
the sign ready, and when he told me again this morning 
that all the symptoms were no hopes, I had it put right 
up. It looks well, don’t you think so ?” and Hiram put 
one foot back and turned his head as if he were looking 
at it, while his hands sought his pockets and his whole 
air was of one contemplating a realized dream. 

“Yes, it does, so it does look well, Hiram ; and al- 
though I am sorry for Mistress Boggs, I really am glad 
to see it.” 

“I am sorry for her, too,” sighed Boggs, “but so 
many years she has not been sorry for me.” 


S/J^ JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS. 41,5 


“ True, Hiram, true,” said Isaac, “ and now you must 
excuse me if I tell you my business and hurry back to 
Blue Bottle. I want to see the lodger — Joe.” 

“Yes, yes, I will call him,” said Hiram, and tripped 
softly up stairs. And while he was gone the Little Man 
looked sadly around the room as if he missed some one 
he had always seen there — and so he did. He murmured 
to himself, “ Excitement of any kind, any kind, and no 
hopes.” 

Joe came directly down behind Hiram and greeted 
Isaac most cordially. 

Meantime, Sir James Lambert stepped up two flights 
in the last house at the end of Blue Bottle Court, rapped 
upon the door through which Mr. Hansom but a short 
time before had entered, scarce waiting for the sign of 
admittance from the inside. Not so with Sir James. 
He lingered after rapping till the door was swung back 
by the now not drowsy clerk of Trout & Thump; with 
dignity but not stiffness he bowed as he was invited to 
enter, which he did, removing at the same time his hat of 
soft, pliable felt. It was one of those head-coverings 
that a man can knock into any shape when he feels 
fatigued, or straighten into a proper and precise form if 
occasion requires. It was black, broad brimmed, and, 
as the wearer was not at all fatigued, or seemed not to 
be, the brim was held to the left side of the crown (which 
was made low by passing the hand through its centre) by 
a star with an emerald centre and twisted gold for its 
rays, each one of which terminated in a small but radiant 
diamond. This was the only jewel he wore. His nether 
garments were looser than the prevailing fashion, their 
texture of bottle-green color was soft and yet coarse ; 
the waistcoat was closely and highly buttoned, even to 
within the boundaries of a broad rather low white collar ; 
the coat, that is the under one, was* not visible as to cut, 
fit, or trimmings, only so much of the latter could be de- 
tected as peeped from the large loose sleeve of the outer 
coat, they were cuffs of rich silk velvet of a dark green 
also ; therefore, we infer that the garment itself matched 
the other two, over and around which it fell. The outer 
coat was somewhat heavier than the season or the protec- 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


416 

tion of a close carriage called for, yet it well became its 
wearer, for it was long and he was tall ; it was ample in 
its breadth, while he was somewhat thin and angular, so 
it gave him the appearance of having a lateral fulness 
that he really did not possess ; it was black, of stuff 
ribbed heavily and lined warmly — its buttons were of the 
same color, but in their hearts was sunken a crest ; but it 
was modestly done as if the owner of it had ordered it 
placed upon them not for show but for identity in case 
of accident. He had the face of an Englishman, and 
the air of one who had travelled in many countries. His 
dress as we have seen might have been of the former 
solely, and it might have been modelled after he had re- 
turned from the latter ; one could not tell, and yet it was 
not an odd apparel. It was more the manner of the man 
who wore it which drew the casual gazer to look again. 

So, after removing his hat, as we have said, he drew 
from his right hand a glove long at the wrist, well shapen 
at the fingers. The hand as he extended it to the sick 
woman, who was pillowed again in the same chair Mr. 
Hansom had found her, showed itself brown, quite 
brown. Labor No. Exposure? Yes. From travel ? 
It may be. 

“ Good woman,” he spoke in a kindlier voice than one 
would have said he owned when looking at the sternness 
and determination upon his face, “ I am sorry to see you 
thus suffering, sorry indeed. You expressed a wish to 
see Sir James Lambert. Am I the man? Satisfy your- 
self before you confide in me the trust you have had 
committed to your keeping.” 

She had given him her hand and before taking it 
away looked up into his face searchingly. “ The same 
features that I have so often seen, only they are older; 
the eyes are not quite so mild, but they might be, I 
know, and gray, too,; yes. The nose has not chang^, 
the mouth is harder at the corners, but kind elsewhere. 
Yes, you are Sir James. I saw you once in London — 
you were pointed out to me ; but many times I have 
been shown your portrait that still hangs on the walls 
at ‘ Rayless House,’ for that is what good old Major Ray 
always called his home after he was left alone in it.” 


SIR JAMES LAMBERT ARREARS. 417 


“ An appropriate title it was, too," replied Sir James 
sadly. For a moment the sternness softened, but the 
next returned harsher than before. “ That is, it must 
have been, for I can fancy the heavy misfortune that fell 
upon him took all light from his heart and home.” 

“ Indeed it did, sir, indeed it did ; it was a sorry 
sight to see him.” 

“ And you were with him, good woman ?” 

“Yes, to the last, and he was glad to go. He was 
childish, very, before he died, but at the end he came to 
himself, and those that knew him before we did, said he 
was the man he used to be ; but it did not last long, it 
was only the brightening before the going, you know.” 
Here the woman lay back, and closed her eyes. 

“You are exerting yourself too much,” said Sir James, 
soothingly. “Now, I see well your goodness of heart 
and your intentions to tell me what I shall be so glad to 
hear ; but remember, you are weak, and it seems better 
that you should tell me to-night only so much as you are 
bound to, for I shall not leave you, I shall come again. 
I do not desert the needy. This may revive you,” and he 
took from his pocket a tiny flask, motioned to the clerk 
to bring him a glass, into which he poured a little of its 
contents and gave her to sip. It was old, rare, exhilarat- 
ing a little, strengthening much ; she tasted it, a few 
drops at a time, as she told her story. 

“Yes, yes,” she began, “ I must make sure first of 
the great trust being given, and leave the rest till after- 
wards. My father was Jonas Barclay, one of the oldest 
and one of the most honored servants at Ivandale. You 
know of that place. Sir James, surely ?” He bowed as- 
sent. “ So I need not explain about the terror and 
gloom of the castle, the meanness and cruelty of its lord, 
for he was cruel, sir, but to none so much as to his own 
children. Well, my father was about the last to leave 
him — frightened away — the feasts he gave after his stray- 
ings from home were dreadful — feasts he called them, but 
the guests never ate anything, they drank and sang, and 
the place was colder and more desolate than ever, after- 
wards. Once Major Ray came there, and my father has 
often told me it was the only gleam of sunshine that had 


-THUMP'S CLIENT, 


418 

been inside since the young master, who called himself 
William Seebold, was put out, and when the major was 
leaving he told my father of the daughter, Mary, and 
asked him to come to him if he was ever driven from the 
walls. And in time" he went. I had left its service 
when quite young ; it was too cold and dark, my father 
said, for a young person like me, and I went out with 
what my father could give me, to look out for myself. I 
learned to trim bonnets and in time was forewoman of 
a fine business. Then I married as good a man as a 
woman need want to. I met him when I went to Wen- 
ham to visit my father , so, he being a mechanic, and a 
master one too, we lived there, and he built some of the 
new factories that have been put up there since you left 
the village; and so it was. Sir James, that I was with the 
major — God rest his soul — and my father’s — when each 
went beyond.” And the woman rested as she raised her 
eyes and her finger upward. “ The Lord Radnor came 
and went to Rayless House. For some time the major 
refused to see him, but at last he did, and I have often 
heard my father tell how changed he was. He cursed at 
first in the old way, but it ended in a cry ; and once he 
even tried to pray for forgiveness when he was liste;dng 
to the major’s talk — the only man, he said, that had ever 
made him feel a bit good at heart ; and so he went and 
came back, went away and came back, and it always 
seemed to me they were hunting for something or some- 
body ; it might have been for the. child of Mr. Richaid 
Ray — I never could tell ; but the major got so, Sir James, 
that he would trust nobody but my father. He made a 
will, and gave it to the man who keeps such things, then 
took it back and said he wouldn’t trust anybody ; but he 
did make one, I know, for good men in the village put 
their names to it, but they never saw it again. My 
father never told me, but I think he had it put in a 
secret part of the castle by Lord Radnor. But that is 
not my trust. Sir James, and I am only giving my sur- 
mises. But this is what I have for you,” and she nodded 
to her son, who stood by listening to what he had never 
heard before ; but he understood what she meant, and 
brought from a chest a small iron box panelled at the 


5 / 7 ? JAMES LAMBERT APPEARS. '419 


sides and raised upon the top. She took a few sips of 
the strengthening wine, and went on, with the box in her 
hand : “ This contains the keys, and, I think, the map of 
the castle, with, my father told me, a curse upon any 
hand who used them but those of Sir James Lambert, or 
somebody he should send. The major called for yo-u 
often before he died, and told Lord Radnor of you till 
he, too, believed you could be trusted. My father lived, 
as his last master bade him, at Rayless House, after he 
was gone, and when it was his turn to go, he gave this to 
me with a solemn oath from me, that come what would 
I would never part with it till you should be found. 

‘ Trouble,’ he said ‘ goes in threes afore the spell is 
broke, and the third one lives, I know, and this will 
break it.’ So I have kept it. Sir James, knowing that I 
should not die till I had seen you, but how it would be 
brought about I could not tell. Lord Radnor came 
back after my father died, opened the box and laid a key 
within ; so, I think, he had been there — to Ivandale, I 
mean. He seemed broken in heart to find my father 
gone, and would not stay with me — some said he had 
wandered again, and so he had. Sir James, but it was a 
wandering he never came back from — he was found on 
the steps of William Seebold’s old home — the home they 
say he burned, and it was a fit place, to my thinking, for 
him to die ; although not to be too hard upon him, I 
think he was a better man for the knowing of Major 
Ray, than anybody ever thought he could be.” Another 
sip after this, and tenderly she looked at the box. It 
had been with her so long, and been an object of so 
much solicitude, that she looked upon it almost as if it 
had been a child she was delivering into the hands of 
one who would care for it. 

Sir James took it, and it was some moments before 
he could speak. At last emotion was conquered, thank- 
fulness to the Power that guided him was silently ren- 
dered, and he said, “ My good woman, I can never repay 
you for the faithfulness with which you have kept your 
trust and your oath, and I shall not show you in words 
alone my appreciation of it, but in deeds. This court is 
no place for you ; you must be moved and cared for. 


.420 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


Your son is well enough in the hands of Mr. Thump for 
the present, but you need what I hope will soon bring 
back a renewed lease upon life, though I fear not a very 
lasting one.” 

“ No, no. Sir James, I cannot live, and it may not be 
worth the while to move. I thank you, thank you,” she 
almost whispered. He saw she was exhausted and as- 
sisted the son to lay her upon the bed, gave her, him- 
self, a fresh drink from the flask, awaited until she had 
rallied and seemed ready for a natural rest ; then bid- 
ding her a warm adieu, with the assurance that she 
should hear from him the following day, he shook hands 
with the clerk, who held open the door, put on his hat, 
and was soon driving away in the waiting carriage. 

“ I engaged you, honest Joe,” said Mr. Wallace that 
night as they sat in the little room of Isaac Harold, “ to 
be hound, horse, and hunter. The hound you have long 
been, waiting for your game in silence ; the time has come 
for you to be the horse, fleet and sure-footed. To-mor- 
row by nightfall will you be in readiness to start on the 
route of Cross-Bow coach ? When at the first stop for 
.relays do you be there to take it ; you will have ample 
time, for it does not leave till eleven o’clock. I will tell 
you exactly where to await it. You will go by it to Kel- 
penwell, and then across country by foot to the borough 
of Quelton, there you will seek the magistrate, show him 
your right to search a lonely deserted castle called Ivan- 
•dale. It has been vacated for years, and there are ru- 
mors that it is a rendezvous for revellers when daylight 
fades. When you enter that you will be the hunter firm 
and fearless. Now are you, or will you be ready?” 

“ I will,” said Joe, “ but may I ask a companion, Mr. 
Wallace ? The dog, Rover ? 

“ Exactly what I intended sending with you ; and I 
am glad, Joe, you value him enough to ask for him. 
Here, good fellow,” and the dog arose from before the 
fire and came forward for a pat from both masters, “you 
will search in an underground room for papers — private 
— that is a will and anything else pointing to family af- 
fairs. To find these shall give you fame; to deliver 
them shall give you fortune.” 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP. 


421 


CHAPTER XLI. 

AN IRON BOX PANELLED AT THE SIDES AND RAISED 
UPON THE TOP IS GIVEN MR. THUMP. 

The father had been given work which the mother 
had but truly said was all he asked for ; the baby, little 
Charley, grew daily, hourly, for he could see no reason 
in the world why he should do anything else — there were 
no draughts to inhale by day and lurk about inwardly 
till, in the stillness of night, they could double him with 
pain ; the floors were not bare, at least, not the one in 
the room he was kept; the fire was not low ; the chair 
was easy, the rocking gentle and soothing; the “Hush, 
my dear,” which came from a happy mother’s heart and 
life, always quieted him. When they were able Miss 
Hamper, Miss Thump, and Meg, with some assistance 
from Peleg, had them removed to the house into which 
Samuel had been carried when he was called from the bor- 
ders of the beyond, because Susan Thump needed him to 
round out her life and make her feel satisfied with herself 
and the world when her journey should be at an end. 

The little house was for rent. Susan saw its bill one 
morning as she stepped upon the porch for a breath of 
fresh air, and to gather, in the china cup she held, a few 
seeds from the vines — the frost had opened their cover- 
ings and at a touch of the hand they fell into the cup. 

“ Humph ! ” said she, “ I won’t tell anybody. I told 
once what I was going to do and I got a twenty-pound 
note for a helper, and I said then, ‘ Susan Thump never 
neglect your duty, but keep your doings to yourself.’ So 
here is a chance. There is the last quarter’s interest — 
not a shilling spent — and another near due. Samuel 
won’t let me have a chance to buy anything. I’ll just 
see now what I can do — and Meg shall help, she is so 
fond of the mite, too.” 


422 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


In an hour the bill was washed off by a charwoman, 
who was soon at work inside with a bucket, brush, and 
broom ; when the dampness consequent upon the clean- 
ing had been persuaded by the next day’s sun that its 
further stay was not conducive to the health of the newly 
born, it disappeared and left the house dry and sweet 
smelling. Then, along came Miss Thump with Meg; 
they measured and planned till by and by Miss Hamper 
looked in on her way from Poorly’s, to say that the 
mother was well enough and the baby hearty enough for 
removal when all things were ready. 

Peleg laid the carpets, jointed and corded the bed- 
steads, hung the curtains, and set the stove where it 
would draw whichever way the wind might blow. Miss 
Thump and Miss Hamper put the practical in place, 
such as bed-covers and linen, dishes and pans, bread and 
meat, sugar and tea ; while Meg did the ornamental, 
touching up here and there, a cushion for the table in 
the sleeping room, a tidy for the best chair in the little 
front room, a loop for the muslin curtains, with a tacking 
on the wall some of her own pencillings in frames of her 
own make, and a promise to herself that some day she 
would add to them little Charley’s face — for with even a 
bit of the ordinary lead, Meg could trace from life and 
from fancy what an artist might not blush to own. 

So, after a few days’ labor, the house was made ready, 
the home was awaiting the coming of Charley the elder, 
Charley the younger, and the little woman who was wife 
to the one and mother to the other. 

There were coals in the yard, and comfort in the 
kitchen ; so when the father came home from his work 
one night, he found word awaiting him to call at Lunley 
Lane. He went, and when the truth dawned upon him, 
and he sat at supper with his wife, cheery and almost 
rosy, opposite him, while the baby lay in its cradle near 
by, he bowed his head, and from his heart went up thanks 
to the Good Giver and an earnest petition for blessings 
upon the hands that had given, and the hearts that had 
opened to them. To this little home Meg often went to 
fondle the baby and chat with the mother. 

The night was closing in rapidly about the Lane 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP. 


423 


when Mr. Thump hurried along its way from the fly to 
the cottage gate. Mother Susan was looking anxiously 
from the lighted parlor, and when she heard his step the 
maid was bidden to bring the waiting tea while she 
opened the door upon the porch. 

“ Why, Samuel, dear,” was her greeting from a short 
distance above the brooch that held the kerchief and 
from over which the white cap-strings were always kept 
by a dexterous spreading where they crossed under the 
chin, “ you are late, but welcome.” 

“Yes, little Mother Susan, I am not as early as usual, 
I know, but don’t think me lazy or loitering, for I have 
been neither ; work, work to do — you know I like to be 
busy as well as you,” and if we saw aright through the 
half-closed door of the porch, Miss Thump’s shining 
bombazine waist had a strong manly arm about it as she 
and her son entered the little parlor where the silver urn 
soon reflected her happy face, as she turned from it, into 
the filagreed cup, the rose-flavored tea. 

The buns she thought a little too brown, but he as- 
sured her they were just right. Truth was, he did not 
know crust from centre. 

The meat had been cut some time ; was it not a little 
dry .? The maid must chip some other. 

He declared he had never tasted fresher. 

She looked questioningly at him, but he was lost in 
his own queries. 

When the meal was completed and the cloth re- 
moved, Mother Susan thought she owed a look in upon 
Charley’s wife across the Lane, some doors above; so 
telling Samuel where she was going, she tripped down 
the walk and through the gate. 

Thus left alone he took notes, papers, and slips from 
his pocket and the dark blue bag ; so absorbed was he 
in reading, tracing, and planning, that he did not heed her 
entrance after an hour’s time. It was an unusual thing 
for him to bring to the cottage the cares and anxieties of 
the office, and as her curiosity had neither abated nor 
been appeased since he had enlisted in the cause of the 
client who had sent him to Wenham, she naturally com- 
bined the two and said, after standing a few moments 


424 


THUMP'S CLIENT: 


watching his thoughtful, and not a little troubled face, 
“ Samuel, you are worrying yourself too much, I have 
seen it for many days ; yes, ever since you came home. 
Now, I wouldn’t bother so much. Instead of staying 
here alone and studying over- something that I suppose 
nobody can ever find out, why didn’t you take a turn 
out .? The air is cool — why, I feel better for the walk I 
had,” and the little woman, into whose face Mr. Thump 
looked, was aglow on the cheeks, bright in the eye, cool 
and breezy about the garments, as if the cold without 
had enjoyed it as much as she. 

“ I have had a long walk to day, Mother Susan,” he 
replied somewhat absently, “ and I will confess much to 
perplex me, but it is not past finding out, as you suggest. 
That is what I am employed for, to find out somebody 
who ought to heir vast estates.” 

“ And if the somebody ought to what is to hinder 
doing it 1 I never could see the use in so many papers 
for a very little thing. I could settle some things that 
folks bother over in a few words. Humph ! if somebody 
ought to, why don’t the somebody do it 1 I shouldn’t 
think it would be a hard matter to coax anyone to do — 
take what everybody wants — money.” Here Miss Thump 
laid aside her shawl, bonnet, and gloves, put them upon 
the sofa and drew her own easy chair near to the table ; 
as she was leaning towards it preparatory to settling her- 
self for rocking while she listened to whatever disclo- 
sures Samuel chose to make, her eye caught the transla- 
tion, for such it might be termed, that Mr. Wallace had 
made of the water-worn papers found upon Maria. 
“Samuel,” she exclaimed, “who wrote that Bless me, 
bless me, I’m glad to see it. It’s the same, the very 
same. I’ll go right and get it; yes, I know just where I 
put it,” and she was gone before Mr. Thump could say 
what or wherefore. 

He heard her feet pattering on the floor above, heard 
a drawer open, shut, and in a moment more she, laboring 
a little from undue exertion of the respiratory organs, 
sat again by his side. 

“ Here, Samuel,” she said when she could talk, “look 
at that.” 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP. 


425 


“ He took what she held, unfolded it and started 
back. It was the note written which had accompanied 
the one printed — Twenty pounds, Bank of England. 
After a few minutes’ examination and comparison with 
the translation he said, “ It is the same hand, without 
question, but this only leaves me more than ever in 
doubt as to the truth of my suspicions.” 

“ Humph,” replied Susan, “ I don’t see any suspicion 
about it. The man who wrote the one, wrote the other; 
that’s proof enough for anybody,” and she held the two 
before her. 

“ But my suspicions are not of the writing,” returned 
he, smiling at the womanly conclusion she had jumped 
at, “ but of the writer.” 

“ Oh ! ” and the tone was half questioning, half coax- 

ing. 

There was silence for a few moments, which Mr. 
Thump broke with, “ Mother Susan, I think I have 
found out who the young girl was who lay here in this 
room last summer. Her name was Maria, you remem- 
ber } ” 

“Yes, yes, poor thing, but I am sure you have found 
out nothing but good of her — she had too sweet a face 
for anyone but the best,” and for the moment curiosity 
was checked by that sympathy, sincere and heartfelt, 
which misfortune always called forth from the good heart 
of Susan Thump. 

Another pause on the part of Mr. Thump, but at last 
he said, with a look as if he had suddenly decided that 
he was about to do a right thing, “ I am going to break 
or rather make an exception to my rule of secrecy con- 
cerning a client’s case, and tell you a strange story. 
Mother Susan, and of course, with you it will be as safe 
as it is with myself 

She nodded assent, the cap-strings trembled a little, 
the hands smoothed the bombazine lap, the rockers 
moved a very trifle, and Miss Thump listened. 

* It was a story which could not be partially told, so 
interwoven were the parts each character had played in 
the drama. She listened and noted, names particularly 
did not escape her ; the blind man she had known, the 


426 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


dog too — upon this latter Mr. Thump dwelt some time. 
Mr. Hansom owned him, for he had well obeyed him at 
Jericho, as he would none but an old master; the blind 
man owned him, for he led him as one who had long 
been in his service; and he had been in the company of 
the man at Isaac Harold’s door, whom he afterwards as- 
certained was Mr. Wallace. “ Now; you see,” he con- 
cluded, “ I am puzzled to find the heiress, and I am con- 
fident a mystery surrounds the man who has engaged my 
services.” 

“ Maybe ^ot so much around him as the dog, Sam- 
uel,” laughed Miss Thump. “ Now, let me see what I 
know,” and she told of her visit to the morgue, accom- 
panied by this same blind man and his dog ; of the sneak- 
ing, shambling figure, which she now knew must have 
been that of Marplot; of its effect upon both the dog and 
his master; and if the latter was so sightless as to be led, 
she did not see how he could know who was before him. 
She had often watched him as he stood at the corner of 
Wilton and the Lane, for his air was not that of a beg- 
gar ; he thanked for what was dropped into his hat or his 
hand, but he did not seem humble, and the dog was too 
particular for the leader of a common mendicant. 

While she was talking it had been Mr. Thump’s turn 
to listen and note, and the latter he did when he recalled 
to mind that Mr. Hansom had said he was at the morgue. 
A thought flashed over him, and the mystery was solved ; 
but he did not tell of it. There was another thought, 
which did not flash, but was given to Susan that night 
long after she had laid her busy head upon the pillow, 
and that thought would not leave her, sleeping or wak- 
ing. 

After the light had entered Mr. Thump’s mind he 
turned to the papers again saying “ I must now make out 
cause for securing this man Marplot at once.” 

“ Poor man,” sighed Susan, “ will you shut him up 

“ That I will, and as speedily as possible. Glad I 
shall be to do it, for I believe him guilty of all, and ev<?n 
more thandie is accused of,” returned Mr. Thump with 
more sternness of face than the little woman at his side 
had ever seen there before.'^ 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP, 


42; 


“Yes,” she sighed again, “but I am always sorry for 
folks that are bad, sorry that they have to be wicked.” 

“ But I don’t think they have to be as you say. 
Mother Susan.” 

“ Sometimes it is born in them, and sometimes it 
comes to them, Samuel, and they must get rid of it,” she 
replied emphatically ; “ and the pity is so many folks 
have to suffer to help them get rid of it.” 

Mr. Thump assented to the last and turned to the fil- 
ling of a blank before him, murmuring, “ Purely circum- 
stantial thus far, but I hope for more than that before a 
trial.” 

The next morning, soon after reaching his office, the 
clerk announced a gentleman awaiting outside, and 
brought in the card of Mr. John Hansom. As Mr. Trout 
had grown of late quite inattentive to the early morning 
business, Mr. Thump sent for the caller to come in, 
which he and the golden bird perched upon the ebony 
cane did quite speedily. The same velvet cloak covered 
him, and under it and one arm he carried the iron box 
which Sir James Lambert had been given the evening 
before. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Thump, good morning ; air 
good, sun bright, sir, bright as your client’s case. I 
can’t tarry long, so I will make my point at once and be 
gone. Let me first say,” and the gentleman sunk with 
the aid of the bird, yet somewhat burdened by the box, 
into a chair that Mr. Thump set invitingly forward. 

“ Let me say, sir, that you said, if I could bring the 
keys, you would call it nothing short of a special interpo- 
sition ; interposition of what, or whom, you did not say, 
and you need not, sir, you need not. All I ask is to say 
chance ain’t at work in this case ; chance don’t guide us, 
eh, Owlie ? See her, see that bird, how she glows ; and 
no wonder, no wonder, sir.” Here, to show the cause of 
the no wonder, Mr. Hansom drew from under his arm 
and cloak the panelled iron box and put it on the 
titble ; touching a spring, the raised lid flew up and with- 
in lay the keys and a complete way of Ivandale. The 
latter he spread before the astonished lawyer, continuing, 

“ That is a point of points, sir — how did I get them ? 


428 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


you 'might think it, if you didn’t ask it, so I will say 
some day, and from the bright look of things, I hope the 
day is not far off when I shall tell you, sir, tell you. Now, 
I will be brief, for I see you are making points for other 
people as well as your client that I have brought you ; 
that is, sir, I gave you the case and not the client, didn’t 
I ? Well, well, we are not ready for her yet. She will 
come, she will come, but chance won’t bring her ; no. I 
have made my point against you in chance, Mr. Thump, 
and a good one it is; very good, indeed, sir. But I said 
I would be brief, and I will ; yes, I will. My man will 
be ready at dark to start for Ivandale ; will you meet 
us before that time at Isaac Harold’s, 4 Blue Bottle 
Court ? Not absolutely necessary, sir, but looks better ; 
gives better send-off to have legal adviser present ; and 
now, when you are through with your points for other 
people, you can look the map well over and see, sir, if 
there are any special instructions for him, and you can 
bring the box, and I will say, good morning, sir, good 
morning ; air good, and sun bright.” 

So, without giving Mr. Thump chance for anything 
but a good morning when he came in, and the same as 
he went out, the elderly gentleman and the ebony cane 
stumped down the stairs, followed by the wide awake 
clerk, who took occasion while assisting him into the fly, 
to say, “ Thank you for what — ” but he got no farther. 
Mr. Hansom broke in, “ Sir James will see that she is 
removed, sir; please close the door upon me ; good day, 
good day ; ” and left alone he had time to think while he 
adjusted the mongrel curls and straightened the beard, 
which was not the best of a match for them. 

Mr. Trout did not arrive early, so the pressing busi- 
ness was attended to by the junior partner, consequently 
the iron box was locked within a private apartment of 
his desk. It required time undisturbed to digest the 
contents and the way, if he could, of the finding thereof ; 
and this was not forthcoming until afternoon, when, with 
the map spread before him, he traced the way one might 
enter by the lodge-keeper’s shelter, which he knew had 
fallen in at the roof and crumbled so about the walls, 
that it would scarce be recognized as such. This he 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP. 


429 


noted, with quite explicit directions, also as to the jour- 
ney across the country, the finding of Quelton’s worthy 
magistrate, and appended a few lines which he signed in 
full, recommending Joe as the man detailed for the 
search. This done, he gave a few moments’ thought to 
the solving how these were obtained. The paper ad- 
dressed to Sir James Lambert, requesting him to search 
within the walls of Ivandale for documents of value, and 
ending with the curse upon whomsoever should do so 
without his command, had been taken from the box, so 
Mr. Thump had not that key for the further unlocking 
of the mysterious ; but in the thinking he became so 
tangled in the memories of the knitted sprig with the dot 
for a falling berry, that there seemed no other way of 
clearing his brain, and easing his heart than venturing a 
note to Meg, the which he had done every day that he 
had not been able to see her, and it would not be sur- 
prising if he had done so, even when he knew he could 
see her. 

It is not an uncommon assurance for lovers to take, 
and Samuel Thump was no exception’; he comforted 
himself much after the manner of them. He carried the 
cherry knot made of “ the narrower ” which he had 
slipped from her hair, next his heart ; he sighed over it 
and dreamed over it ; and after sealing the note just 
written, he peeped tenderly at it. He had told Mother 
Susan at dinner that he should be home early to supper; 
so, as it was already past four, he took the box and the 
dark blue bag in either hand, bade Mr. Trout, who was 
as busy upon private matters as he had been, and the 
clerk good day, and sought the cottage. 

Mother Susan was awaiting him ; the tea and the urn 
were awaiting each other, and the table laid with its 
snowy damask, clear china, and shining silver looked in- 
vitingly to all. Nothing was said during the meal of 
their conversation of the night previous, and yet the 
same thought was abiding with Susan. And the flash of 
light upon Samuel’s mind had been somewhat dimmed 
when Mr. Hansom had brought him the box, for he had 
heard at VV^enham that the woman who held the keys was 

to deliver to none but Sir James Lambert, and in the 

* 


430 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


findi-ng of him, his client, or rather the one who was act- 
ing for her, seemed perfectly indifferent. So each was 
thoughtful, and when the table had been cleared and 
there was no danger of intrusion from the maid, Samuel 
opened again the box and showed Mother Susan what 
was within. The keys she handled one by one with awe, 
the map she looked at, and followed his finger as it traced 
the way Joe would no doubt take over the grounds with- 
out and under the ground within. 

“ Now,” said he as he folded the one, laid back the 
others, “ I am going to Blue Bottle Court to see the man 
who is to search for what we need. He and Mr. Han- 
som will be at Isaac Harold’s.” 

“Why that’s the gatherer,” interrupted Miss Thump, 
“ who brought the twenty-pound note, But where did 
you get this, Samuel?” and she pointed to the box now 
closed and ready for being taken away. 

“ Mr. Hansom got it, but where I cannot say now. 
I shall be late if I do not make haste.” As he needed a 
heavier surtout for the night air. Miss Thump brought 
it, helped him put it in place about the neck and shoul- 
ders, followed him upon the porch, and stood there till 
the gate clicked behind him. 

Isaac Harold was happy ; he was gathering, not into 
his sack, but into his little room. He was welcoming 
Mr. Hansom, whose instructions Joe had been informed 
he might obey as if they were those of Mr. Wallace; 
Rover, who looked a little sad at the thought of parting 
with all but dearie, and to her he seemed to cast taunt- 
ing glances ; Joe himself, who came with stout heart and 
warm heavy clothing on and more strapped upon his 
shoulders; and lastly Mr. Thump himself, who opened 
the door as one bade “ Come in ! come in !” 

The visitor obeyed and found himself speedily ush- 
ered into the snuggest and the neatest room he thought 
he had ever been in outside his own home. Mr. Han- 
som being the elderly gentleman of the group, sat upon 
the easy chair, Joe was upon the high stool, and from a 
corner under dearie’s cage Isaac pulled a chair that was 
many-jointed in its frame, pliable in its covering, and so 
could take up as much space as any if it was allowed to. 


A GIFT TO MR. THUMP. 


431 


or could be folded and put away into a very small com- 
pass if it needed to be. Its wooden part was a jet black 
with gilt stripes which had tarnished with time and hard 
usage ; the web which made its back and seat were of blue 
satin spotted with wine, perhaps, and faded with much 
sitting upon, no doubt, but it had once been, and indeed 
still was, a marvel of skill, with its birds and flowers, 
vines and tendrils done in silks and flosses, beads and 
feathers, by fair fingers — and having had its day, it was 
gathered into the sack, and so took happily to the corner 
from which it was only brought forth when visitors were 
, many, as on the present occasion. The Little Man, of 
course, sat upon the prie-dieu., with his chin upon his 
hands and listened. Joe was introduced to the legal ad- 
viser in the case, who told him what he knew of the inns, 
roads, etc., then showed him the map and notes he had 
made. 

There seemed little else to do ; so, as the lawyer saw 
the Little Man was making preparations for refreshing 
the traveller with tea and whatever else was within the 
cupboard, he bade Joe a hearty good-bye with sincere 
wishes for his speedy success. Rover he petted and fon- 
dled. Mr. Hansom he congratulated upon securing so 
promising a man, and Isaac he shook warmly by the 
hand. He left a light and cheeriness behind him that all 
felt, and when the supper was spread it seemed to taste 
the better to all for the coming and going of the young 
lawyer. Dearie looked with her head on one side then 
on the other, perched upon Mr. Hansom’s hand, but ate 
little ; she seemed to feel the coming of something sad. 
The dog once looked at her kindly ; she whistled and 
plumed herself, but he noticed her no more. Joe ate 
heartily and Isaac served generously. Mr. Hansom drank 
of the tea, tasted a sweet bun and then busied himself 
with an overlooking of the bag of provisions he had 
brought for Rover and his new master. Meats dried, 
crackers fresh and crisp, cheese new and rich, cakes that 
time would not mould and a bottle of Veau de vie for 
fatigue and exhaustion. 

An hour later three men and a dog were seen to halt 
without the court-yard of Cross-Bow inn ; one, the tallest 


432 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


and most angular entered and asked how far to the first 
halt of the eleven o’clock coach, thanked the keeper and 
joined those without. They all walked on — one, two, 
three miles, till Joe protested against the needless tiring 
of his companions, although loth to part company with 
them ; so again they halted. The moon once more looked 
kindly on them, but the air through which she shot her 
soft beams was frosty ; before it was warm and balmy. 
The way was a little lonely where they separated, yet it 
was sparsely settled all along till he reached the station 
where he awaited the coach from Cross Bow. Isaac did 
not feel cheery enough to straighten out, and he did not 
feel like drawing up, yet as he took Joe’s hand, his own 
trembled and his voice gave a husky good-bye. Rover 
laid his head in turn upon his shoulder and that of Mr. 
Wallace, for he was the tall and angular we have spoken 
of, lapped their faces and lay at the feet of Joe till he 
should be bidden to follow or lead. Mr. Wallace’s grip, 
short, warm, and his “farewell Joe,” was supplemented 
with “ God speed you.” Isaac drew his cloak closely 
about him, turned toward London. Great Heart fol- 
lowed him. Joe and Rover were soon lost sight of, but 
the short, quick, and ever fainter barks of the latter told 
they were moving on and away. Cross-Bow coach took 
them to Kelpenwell ; then across by highway and by- 
way they went till they were in Quelton ; here they 
rested over night, sought the magistrate and made their 
way through -as quiet a country as can be found in Eng- 
land, till upon the fifth day after they had left London 
they stood before the entrance to Ivandale. Joe opened 
the box, fitted a key to its outer portal ; with much ex- 
ertion the bolt turned rustily, unwillingly ; the gate he 
at last moved upon its weary hinges enough to admit 
him laterally. 

The man looked in, the dog looked back, but they 
broke the awful stillness together. 


MJ^S. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 433 


CHAPTER XLII. 

MRS. TROUT FINDS, UNEXPECTEDLY, HER MOTHER. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn Sellers Trout found 
themselves side by side in the hansom, they inwardly 
felt exceedingly ridiculous ; they outwardly looked per- 
fectly satisfied. 

“ My dear,” said the husband, buttoning his surtout 
for lack of something else to do, “ I think it advisable to 
keep our marriage a secret for a few days, until I have 
made suitable arrangements for one in your station, or in 
which you will be soon. I have all things in readiness 
now for claiming what by right is yours, and shall start 
with you shortly for the counties in which these proper- 
ties await you, and lest it might make you a subject of 
comment from Mrs. Mutter and her lodgers, we will not 
speak of our recent contract till we are about to leave,” 
and he smiled so blandly in every feature, that his fore- 
head, too, caught the infection, and raised his hat a trifle 
in its effort, so he removed that new and shining article, 
and smoothed his bald crown while he awaited her reply. 

“ It is so charming,” she simpered, and rolled her 
eyes sentimentally, “ to have some one to care for me, 
that I make but acquiescence in what you propose.” 

She was vexed at the stupidity of the groom in not 
providing witnesses, and a somebody to give her away, 
but she did not deem it best, at so early a stage of the 
matrimonial career to show resentment at what she 
thought an affront to herself. 

So it was decided they should take a drive about 
London, and then alight at the same corner where they 
had found the hansom awaiting them. This they did, 
and no one but Zeke and Mary Ann knew that Miss Ray 
had gone out that bright morning. 


434 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Craft and cunning, who had so faithfully served Mr. 
Trout since his birth, and had even, we found, begun 
their attendance just before, had utterly deserted him 
now in the very time when he needed them most, but it 
was his own fault. When craft whispered in the vaults 
subterranean, “ Supply the needful link,” and cunning 
added, “ I’ll show you how,” they meant to and would 
perhaps have carried him successfully through, but the 
face was so pretty, the ways so enchanting, the slipper so 
gentle in its patting, the rosette so dainty, that he listened 
to soft-hearted love, which so chagrined and disgusted 
craft and cunning that they betook themselves to flight 
— yes, they were even making ready, and if we mistake 
not, did desert him when Mr. Wallace held his second 
interview with their former master. It will be readily 
seen that it was not in accordance with their instruc- 
tions that he had so hastily put his neck under the yoke 
hymenial, or would ever put it there at all ; so, after 
this, they made no further attempt to conciliate with 
him, but he had the link which they had supplied ; that 
they could not get back, although they might not let him 
use it as they would have done. 

He alighted from the hansom, but before doing so, he 
had pressed warmly the dainty hand of his wife, sighed, 
and no doubt would have kissed her, but the place was 
too public, so he only sighed again and then smiled. 

He looked after her. She turned the corner, he 
turned to himself and to the driver of the hansom. The 
latter he paid liberally ; the former he took to Poorly’s 
Resort. There he rapped upon the front of Marplot’s 
dingy dwelling ; paused, rapped twice, paused again, and 
the occupant below stairs opened to him. 

“ Glad to see you ; oh ! glad indeed,” said the lawyer, 
withholding his hand lest the electric shock might affect 
him too much for what he had to do. 

‘‘And^Iwant to see you,” returned Marplot, rather 
sulkily. “ I have written for you to call, but you were 
not in, or so they told the young man I sent — Ralph 
Speeder.” 

‘‘Ah! oh !” replied Mr. Trout, following his host in, 
and sitting down upon a chair without any back, and 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 435 


quite uncertain legs, “ sorry, indeed, very sorry, so am 
glad I came to-day. Is there anything special you 
needed me for ?” 

“ Only to say that things must be pushed. I am 
living in poverty, and I ought to have plenty. You have 
had time enough to make all ready now,” and the almost 
insolent tone in which Marplot spoke, the no need there 
was for the wiping away of the secretions, the indepen- 
dent manner he tried to assume, the bold way in which 
he eyed him, startled Mr. Trout, and he interrupted him. 

“ Oh, I have everything quite to my mind now, and 
I know it will be to yours. I find upon occasional calls 
upon Miss Ray that she knows but little of what she is 
here for, so now, if you will sign this, I will start for 
Wenham in a few days, present your claim, and get 
Ivandale for her, if I can, and give you, of course, a 
share.” 

“ In writing,” said Marplot; “ I must have it in black 
and white. Here, write it down,” and he put before the 
lawyer a quill well crusted, a stand that might have been 
constructed for its present purpose, that of holding ink 
— it might have been made a pot for enclosing mustard, 
and the latter was no doubt its legitimate’ calling in life — 
and a sheet of paper thumbed at the margin and curled 
at the corners. Upon this Mr. Trout wrote an agree- 
ment to pay him a per cent of the worth of Lord Rad- 
nor’s estate. He made not the slightest objection to the 
stipulation of his client, a fact which somewhat surprised 
the latter. This being done the lawyer proposed that 
they apply to the nearest justice to witness the signature 
of Marplot to the paper which would give him power 
to claim the Ray estate in his. Marplot’s name. 

“ I shall start,” said he, “as soon as Tom Barley re- 
turns, although that can have little to do with you ; but if 
Radnor is dead, it will save me one trip, and times are 
busy with me.” He rubbed his hands satisfactorily, while 
Marplot put on his hat and drew on a long rusty coat, 
out at the elbows, greasy on the collar, fringed at the 
cuffs, and remarked that Tom was gone much too long. 

To this Mr. Trout made no reply, he busied himself 
with putting on his gloves ; he wanted to get out, of the 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


436 

little room whose air was stifling and heavy with miscel- 
laneous odors. 

The justice saw them. He signed. Marplot signed. 
Mr. Trout was so considerate as to pay the fee, and when 
lawyer and client were without, the latter said he would 
leave London so soon as he had the portable part of the 
estate in hand. 

“You may, and no doubt will, have to present your- 
self, Marplot, in Wenham, unless you can show good 
reason why you should not,” said Mr. Trout significantly 
as he hurried away without giving his client time to re- 

p'y- . ... 

This had the effect of starting the glands into action 
again, so wiping and shambling, Marplot turned back to 
the Resort muttering, “ I’ve got him if it comes to light ; 
S. S. Trout it was signed. Ha, ha! that was another 
master-stroke of mine. I am shrewd after all,” and for- 
getting that he had not turned the key upon his lodging, 
he sidled about and strolled through ways quite as mis- 
erable as the one in which he dwelt. After an hour or 
more he returned, still oozing and wiping as he chuckled 
within himself ; ^and when he entered the room it struck 
him things were not quite as he had left them, but that 
notion was dispelled by the remembrance that Mr. Trout 
had disarranged somewhat the usual disorder of things, 
and he sat down to more thinking and plotting, that is, 
making plots which might be found needful if things 
went against him in the issue speedily at hand. 

When Mrs. Trout found herself again upon the sec- 
ond floor, end room of Mrs. Mutter’s popular lodgings, 
she threw off the pretty bonnet, the graceful mantle, the 
tasty dress, and easing herself in a loose sack sat down 
and looked upon the floor, which she began to address 
somewhat in this wise : 

“ Am I a fool ?” 

The floor made no reply. 

“ What else could I do .?” 

It was still passive. 

“ I think something sure is better than something 
uncertain.” 

At this reasoning she laughed herself, and cared 


MJ^S. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 437 


not for the floor’s opinion ; yet she went on, with her eyes 
still upon it. 

“ As I have often said, I cannot work. I have no 
money, and yet — ah, yes, surely, how could I forget — I 
am to be mistress of vast estates ! Ah, yes, so I am. 
Very well, if other folks choose to run risks 1 have no- 
thing to say, only let me live and not be oppressed with 
the vulgar feeling that I must earn my bread. Bah ! I 
have done that long enough. Let me see how it looks,” 
and she took up a pencil near at hand and wrote, Mrs. 
S. S. 'I'rout. “ Now, really, that looks very well : there 
are surely worse names to be found.” 

The dinner bell broke in upon her solilo.quy, and 
hastily preparing herself she wet¥t down feeling a little 
vexed that her husband had not taken her to some select 
and retired stall and ordered a good dinner — something 
she had not yet partaken of since she came to England. 
This neglect was not from penuriousness ; it was because 
. he was intent upon hastening his departure from Lon- 
don, but she did not then know it. 

The meal was eaten as usual; her manner* was calm; 
her replies, when addressed, for she ventured nothing 
herself, were pleasant. Zeke eyed her cunningly, and 
Mary Ann made an excuse to peep in through the half- 
closed door that led to her domains, but they saw no 
change in her. 

Mr. Trout did not come again that 'day partly to 
divert suspicion and partly because he had so much 
to do, but the following day a caller rang the bell of 
No. 40. 

Zeke attended and found a young man, whom he 
took to be an “ happlerkant,” and was about to demean 
himself accordingly, when to his surprise Miss Ray was 
inquired for. 

He was shown into the parlor, and his card — which 
bore, Zeke found on his way up, the name of “ Ralph 
Speeder” — was presented in a very familiar sort of way ; 
that is, with a wink and a nudge which might not have 
struck Zeke unpleasantly had they been given by any 
one he knew, but he liked some reserve between stran- 
gers ; so not being favorably impressed he took his own 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


438 

time on the stairway and loitered upon the landing until 
he heard Mrs. Mutter bustling about in the front room, 
attending with no very delicate touch to the wants of the 
rheumatic Mrs. Crowfoot, and he knew she was liable to 
pounce upon him at any moment, for she never opened 
and closed a door like other people. She had a way of 
being one moment perfectly still upon one side of it, and 
at the next being suddenly upon the other side ; either 
she opened the door very quietly and stepped softly, or 
else she made the ordinary noise, but so quickly that it 
was not perceptible — it was a question that was scarcely 
admissible of solution, for she was so seldom seen in 
the doing thereof — only immediately after it was done. 

With thk> peculiar Acuity of hers in mind, Zeke took 
warning, for if anything delighted his heart it was to out- 
wit his mistress and have something transpire in the 
house without her knowledge — a thing which was not 
often done, it is true — and he rapped at Miss Ray’s door. 

She knew his signal, opened the door, took the card, . 
read it, looked at Zeke’s hand to see if he had not been 
charged with more than one for delivery and given her 
what was intended for some other lodger, but he as- 
sured her the person — it will be seen he was nice enough 
to discriminate between a gentleman and a person — 
called for her. 

“ What does he look like T' she asked wonderingly. 

“ ’E don’t' look so bad as ’e hacts,” returned Zeke, 
who balanced upon the toes of the right foot, nudged the 
casement with his elbows and winked at it, “ I doesn’t 
call that be’avin’ well — an happlerkant wouldn’t do that 
bad,” but he broke off suddenly, pointing toward the 
front room, for there was an ominous silence upon the 
other side of the door leading therein, and hurrying 
down the stairs told Mr. Ralph Speeder on his own 
authority that Miss Ray would be down soon. 

That young lady, much perplexed at who in London 
beside Mr. Trout should know her, or her whereabouts, 
rather mechanically tightened the ruby-colored cord with 
•the silken tassels, smoothed her hair upon the top and 
coaxed the little curls at the side, while a slight shadow 
rested on the face, for her heart was not light. 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 439 

Mr. Speeder was not prepared to see one so wholly 
unlike himself, and he felt quite abashed when she ap- 
peared, so pretty in face, figure, and dress ; so much 
superior in dignity, carriage, and manner to aught he 
had ever been brought so near to. 

She took him in at one glance, from the unpolished 
shoes with their broken and knotted ties, to the hat 
which he still kept upon locks that were daily neglected 
by brush and comb, and were not monthly frequenters 
of the barber’s apartments. In justice to him we will 
say, he knew enough to take off his hat, but he had for- 
gotten to do so, till he saw her eyeing it, and he seized 
it with a jerky, yanking movement, as if he meditated 
summary punishment upon it for not coming off itself 
when it should have done. Then he arose, while doub- 
ling and twisting it in his hand, and said, “ Miss Ray ?” 
— he was about to add “ eh ?” with a wink, but checked 
himself in time. 

“ It is,” she returned. “ Will you please state what 
brings you to me.^” 

This stately remark brought him back to himself, 
and he thought, but did not say it, “ Ha ! soon take the 
starch out.” He saw that he must conceal what he 
wanted to throw in her teeth — for he knew that her-life 
had been easier than his, and he hated her for it — if he 
would make her do what he wished her to do, so he 
replied, “ What brings me here ? a request from a lady 
that’s got something to tell that you want to know. Don’t 
s’pose you’ll believe me, so I got her to write it,” and he 
handed her a bit of crumpled paper, on which, in a fee- 
ble scrawling hand — yet it bore traces of a power, if in 
strength, to form its letters well and shapely — was written 

“ Dear Margaret : come to me. 

“Your Mother.” 

It took more to throw Miss Ray off a mental equili- 
brium than most of her sex — age and experience in life — 
but this completely unnerved her. She caught at the 
chair back, for she had not yet sat down, and as soon as 
she could, took a vinaigrette from her pocket ; its volatile 
contents revived her, and she read again with more com- 


440 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


posure. That she had a mother once nature’s laws alone 
had taught her. That a woman’s face she had seen in 
childhood and upon the vessel from America was often 
before her she knew. It had beauty in all but the eyes, 
and they were — she had pronounced them wicked to Mr. 
Trout, but now as she recalled them, they seemed wild, 
despairing, almost maniacal. Could this woman be her 
mother ? If so, why had she left her all these years to 
the care of strangers and at their mercy } She had no 
love for her, but duty — no, curiosity concerning her 
origin, induced her to trust to the slouchy, uncouth mes- 
senger as her guide, for she supposed he was to act as 
such, the request containing no address. 

“ Where does this person live ?” she asked haughtily, 
yet he had noted beneath his lopping eyes the effect it 
had had. 

“ I am to take you to her,” came rather curtly ; and 
tired of standing on one foot so long, for he never bore 
weight upon two at once, he rudely sat down and began 
staring about the room with an air that said, “ You can 
do as you please, but you’ll miss if you don’t.” 

She turned upon him a look of contempt and left the 
room without a word. Hastily dressing, she soon reap- 
peared, heavily veiled and well cloaked. Motioning him to 
follow her, they passed out the street door with none to 
see them but Zeke ; so she knew the visitor’s coming and 
their going was safe from Mrs. Mutter’s knowledge. 

They walked rapidly. He, at first, was not inclined 
to do so, but she keeping always a little ahead showed 
him her desire to be at their destination as speedily as 
possible ; therefore, he quickened his pace, and they 
reached Blue Bottle Court just after Meg had passed out 
of it followed by Isaac Harold. 

She had been to the sick woman she so disliked and 
yet would not see her suffer ; she had left some gruel, 
some soup, and arranged her bed and tidied the room 
generally, given it fresh air, while she threw extra cov- 
ering over the patient, who was listless at times from ex- 
haustion, and at others showed strength that was purely 
nervous, for it left a flush upon the face and quickened 
the pulse. When her comfort for a few hours had been 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER 'MOTHER. 44 1 


insured, Meg said she would go, if there was nothing 
rnore to be done, and that Miss Hamper would look in 
upon her in the afternoon. The woman she knew did 
not like young girls about her, and she herself did not 
like to do for her, and yet she pitied her. The going 
was never a lingering one, to add a pat to the cover or 
a smooth to the pillow, as was the case with many a one 
she cared for. Bidding her a good-morning, which was 
responded to by the invalid with her face turned away, 
she passed out and down the flight, passed the now vacant 
room of the clerk and his mother who had been moved 
to more genteel and accommodating quarters upon the 
day after Sir James’s visit by a woman who bore a letter 
from him, and who forestalled herself as nurse, and a 
kind and worthy one she proved. Meg had been to see 
her, and found her gaining in strength and spirits. She 
felt a loneliness in the house when she passed her room, 
but was glad that she had gone from its dreariness and 
want. 

Once in the court again she breathed more freely and 
said to herself that she would relieve Mother Martha of 
home duties and let her attend the woman, for her pres- 
ence stifled her in breath and depressed her at heart. 
She hurried on. Isaac saw her come into the court, and 
watched for her to go out ; he followed her, as we have 
recorded, and so missed giving Great Heart the oppor- 
tunity to solve the relationship between Margaret Ray— 
Mrs. Trout we should call her, if her marriage were not 
still a secret — and the woman, and also to hear her story, 
but this fell into hands which were waiting for it as well 
as his ; so we will enter the last house at the end and 
bear truthful witness to what transpired. 

Not a word had passed between Ralph and Miss Ray 
after they turned from Mrs. Mutter’s door. She was 
proud and thought him beneath her attention ; he was 
exultant and waiting his time. When they reached the 
door upon the third floor he tapped ; the same signal it 
was which he gave when he had been there a few days 
before — thrice — twice — once. 

The ‘ come in,’ was tremulous, excited, and when he 
pushed open the door the sick woman was raising herself 


442 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


upon one hand and peering eagerly forward. Miss Ray 
felt a shudder creep over her, but the drawing of the 
mantle concealed it. She shut out the sight for a mo- 
ment, but the veil covered her closed eyes. Nerving her- 
self for whatever might come, she unveiled her face and 
drew near the cot whose clothes were coarse but neat, as of 
a certainty they would be with the nurses the woman was 
fortunate enough to have. A low table made by putting a 
circular bit of knotted wood upon a not much smoothed 
stick to which were nailed three slightly curved ones for 
feet, and the whole stained with a solution probably of 
the dye-stuff called logwood, stood near her ; it could be 
reached from the cot. On it were a glass of water for 
thirst, some spirits of nitre for fever, some gruel for 
nourishment. On each side was a wooden chair painted 
once yellow and black, but their coating had vanished in 
so many places that they had a leprous look ; a stove, 
that when she was in health had, no doubt, been used for 
cooking, held a glowing fire, for Meg had just bought a 
basket of coals from the green- grocer at the corner, and 
left it well supplied. Upon the walls were hung from 
wooden pegs, dresses which had been made for those of 
wealth and fashion, and, no doubt, given to her because 
their wearers were weary of them, and they now began 
themselves to take on a jaded, ragged air, as if their self- 
respect was wellnigh gone. The one window was cur- 
tained by a bit of chintz that relieved by its gaiety the 
monotony of the room. At the head of the cot stood a 
small chest, whose key she guarded carefully. She looked 
upon Margaret, and the wildness, that the girl had termed 
wickedness, came back to her eyes, and sitting erect she 
put out her amis feebly, it is true, yet if there had been 
any warmth towards her their motion would have been 
read aright. 

Miss Ray pretended she did not see them and looked 
for one of the chairs, into which she sank rather than sat, 
for her limbs were weakening ; she could see, despite 
the pallor and sunken features, that the face was the one 
she remembered, and the same that had been with her 
on shipboard. Could this, indeed, be her mother ? ‘ She 
knew she must speak, or move, or bow, or do something 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 443 


to show that she would give her at least the salutation 
due a stranger into whose home she had been invited, so 
with an effort she said, “ I am sorry to see you sick,” 
but her voice sounded cold and heartless in her own ears 
and she paused. 

The woman lay back upon her pillow, drew the covers 
over her head, and So still she lay for a few moments 
and so pulseless seemed her heart, that Miss Ray would 
not have been surprised if she had found life gone. 

Ralph did not draw near. When they entered, he 
merely nodded to her and jerked his head in the direction 
of the young lady, as if to say, “ I’ve fetched her,” then, 
as he was thinly clad, drew up to the fire and between 
warming and blowing his stiff blue fingers he found him- 
self fully occupied, yet he listened. But what be heard 
did not repay the exertion, so he turned Just as the 
covers were drawn off the face, and the features with a 
pinched look he had never seen before startled him, if 
such a thing could be done. She slowly stretched out 
her long slender hand and dipped one finger in the 
water upon the table, moistened her lips and moved 
them as if she would speak, not to her daughter, for she 
never turned her eyes toward where she was sitting, but 
to Ralph. Not moved by pity, but a desire to bring the 
interview to a close as soon as possible, because he must 
see Miss Ray back to Chapel Street, he stepped to the 
cot and leaned over her. She whispered, “ Alone with 
Margaret.” To this he was forced to assent, yet it did 
not accord with his own feelings, for he wanted to see 
the sting the revelations would give the proud beauty ; so 
with one more triumphant glance toward her he closed, 
rather sulkily, the door behind him. 

“ Alone with Margaret ” she was, and how could she 
break the silence ? If the girl would only show some 
sympathy, some pity ; if she would kneel beside her and 
take her hand ; if she would even sit upon the cot ; but 
she would not so much as draw near. The spell must 
be broken, or she could not do what she so longed to do 
— turn her face from the light, and die. She could not 
till she had spoken, till she had sounded her child’s heart 
to see if there was an ember there that could be fanned 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


4M 

to flame, that would strive to shed its heat upon lives 
that she herself had chilled. 

Margaret sat with eyes fixed upon the floor, hands 
clasped tightly and nervously in her lap, steeling her 
heart to whatever good might seek for outlet, for she 
kept the one thought before her mind — “ She left me to 
strangers,” At last the woman said with a piteous look 
in her eyes, a pleading in her voice, “ Margaret, where is 
your heart ?” 

“ I never had one,” was the quick reply, while the 
eyes never raised themselves. 

“And yet so young and so beautiful,” and the 
mother cast admiring glances upon her, which showed 
that vanity when younger had been one of her strong 
faults, and was, even now, asserting itself, for she saw in 
her daughter much of her own lost beauty. 

“ I am called so,” came rather mechanically in reply 
to the last assertion ; the first was self-evident. 

“ Do you know it is dangerous to be beautiful when 
you have no family to protect you.?” began the mother 
again after long silence. 

“ I have what is better than that,” came again lacon- 
ically. 

“What do you mean, child? what can you mean?” 
and the sick woman propped herself upon one elbow 
while she leaned over the cot and as near the still 
statue-like figure as she could. “ You have not been in 
London long ; you have had no visitors ; you have seen 
no one but your attorney, and he — ” 

“ And he is my husband,” interrupted Margaret. 

The piteous look was gone ; the wildness came back ; 
the fever flushed the cheeks, and strength came for the 
time. She sprang from the cot, put her hand under the 
girl’s chin and turned her face upward. 

“You shall look at me; you shall! I will see for 
myself if you are not playing this iciness.” One glance 
and she fell back murmuring, “Too cold, too cold! 
There would be no love, no care there for him. I am 
lost ! lost !” she shrieked, and drawing the covers about 
her, lay still, save the panting, the convulsive breath- 
ing. 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. 445 

When the excitement in a measure had abated she 
began again, but with a reckless air that boded no good, 

“ Why did you take such a step ?” 

“ Because there was none other before me.” 

“ Ha ! that is worthy of your inheritance. I am 
your mother — my note told you that. I hoped you 
might have mercy for me, but you have none. I had 
intended to tell you a story that I thought would move 
you to make restitution in a mother’s name, but all hope 
is gone, so, what will I do 'i what, but help you to be 
Lady of Ivandale, heiress of Major Ray’s estate. Do 
you know who I am ? Ha ! when I tell you, you will 
look at me ! I am or I was the wife of Richard Ray,” 
to say this cost her a terrible effort, a struggle as if with 
something that would seal her lips, but she overcame it 
and continued, “And you are Margaret Ray. Wait till 
some one comes who can take what I say. I sent for a 
lawyer; yes, it must be left for proof, he will soon be — ” 

“ He is here,” said the voice of Samuel Thump from 
the doorway. “ We rapped, but you did not hear us,” 
and he entered followed by Mother Susan with a basket 
of comforts upon her arm. 

“ Are you a lawyer, sir ; are you the son of that ' 
woman ? She has been good to me, and I can trust you.” 
Her lips trembled, her features softened a little as she 
looked at Miss Thump’s happy face, but the good inten- 
tions, if there were any, were soon crushed when she 
looked upon the beautiful face beside the cot which 
showed life, animation now, upon the entrance of 
strangers, especially of one who was gallant and gra- 
cious, handsome and pleasing. Mr. Thump took Mother 
Susan’s basket, and sat for her the only chair unoccu- 
pied, while he stood near, quite at ease, despite the 
beautiful features that were turned so that he could well 
see them without rudely gazing. 

The woman was somewhat abashed for a moment, 
took a sip from the cup of gruel, and the wildness seemed 
intensified by the strength given to body by this, and a 
few drops of cordial Miss Thump poured out from a 
little bottle she held in her hand. 

“ I am ready to begin my story.” As she said this. 


446 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


she put up her hand as if motioning some fancy of the 
brain backward, down — something she was overcoming, 
was it good or evil ? — she mastered it ; “ I am — am Mary 
Ray, wife once of — of — ” and before she could say it, 
she put her hands over her eyes and held them tightly. 

“ Of Richard Ray, you were saying as we came in,” 
suggested Mr. Thump, full of sympathy for what he sup- 
posed an innocently suffering woman. 

At the name she looked up, nodded assent, “ and 
this — this,” pointing to the pretty figure, no longer stiff 
and still, but moving slightly, gracefully on the hard 
wooden chair, “ is my daughter Margaret — Margaret 
Ray, the heiress of Ivandale, and pounds by the thou- 
sands at Wenham.” 

“And the one for whom I am seeking,” said Mr. 
Thump, glancing smilingly at the beautiful face which 
returned his look, but with a dignity that he thought very 
fitting for one in the place she would soon be, if this 
woman’s words were true. He thought of Mr. Hansom’s 
assurance that she would appear when wanted, and that 
chance had nothing to do with their work — but just 
what else to call it he did not see. However, he took a 
cautionary view of the case, and would demand proof 
beyond cavil, before asserting right for a stranger, for 
although everything about the daughter was pleasing, 
and in keeping, there was something about the mother 
that brought not conviction with her words ; yet this 
might be attributed to weakness from her disease, or the 
false strengthening of Mother Susan’s drops. Whether 
Margaret Ray thought she was listening to the truth or 
not, one could not tell ; she took but little interest either 
way, but showed more perhaps when the lawyer con- 
tinued, “ But I shall need some written proof of your 
words — and you also said you had a story to tell.” 

“ So I have,” she whispered hoarsely, “ so I have, and 
a sad one too,” and she put up her clasped hands and 
raised her eyes as if imploring mercy of the same fancy 
for her daughter’s sake. The mother must have had 
some love for the unloving child ; must have wanted 
even at the risk of her own soul’s suffering, to save her^ 
if she could, from a fate like hers. 


MRS. TROUT FINDS HER MOTHER. ‘44/ 


“ And that must be told to substantiate her claim,” 
suggested Mr. Thump, as if to remind her of the legal 
measure that must be taken, “and to save your strength, 
let me tell you it must be given before a justice to be 
recognized before the court, so let me beg you to rest 
while I go out and seek such. If I had known the 
nature of your desire for calling in legal advice, I should 
have come with one, but I thought it was merely some- 
thing to be bequeathed, for which you solicited my aid, 
which would have been gladly given. So, now, do not 
exert yourself, but remain quiet till I return. This is a 
matter of vital importance,” and he made ready to go, 
but she motioned a dissent, and when she could speak, 
said, 

“ Not to-day, not to-day, I am' not strong enough. 
To-morrow — to-morrow will do ; I shall live till then,” 
she added, for she saw a questioning look in his face as 
he watched her quick breath and burning cheeks. “The 
fever comes, but it goes. If you do not believe me, you 
shall see. Margaret, open that — here is the key — ” she 
motioned toward the little chest near the head of the cot 
— “ take out a book.” The daughter did as bidden. The 
woman turned to the lawyer, as if she would have him 
take it. As he 'did so, he noted the bearing, the ease, the 
refinement about the girl, which was charming indeed, 
but he forgot it all when he opened the book — he started 
back with an exclamation of surprise ; it was the lost 
record of Wenham’s little church, It contained the 
marriage of Richard Ray and Mary Seebold. It con- 
tained the birth of Margaret Ray, and he saw that Ivan- 
dale’s mistress would be eighteen on the twentieth of 
December. It was now after the middle of November. 

“ But the mere record could be in the keeping of any 
one,” said he. 

“ I have it all — all you — she needs — but she is so 
beautiful,” she murmured the last to herself, and as if 
to conciliate the “ fancy” that was still hovering around. 
“ I cannot show them now, to-morrow — to-morrow . Do 
not leave me alone; somebody will stay, I cannot bear 
it,” and putting both hands again tightly over her eyes 
she shuddered and sank back unconscious. 


448 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


Mr. Thump laid away the book, locked the chest 
with the key, had a few words with Mother Susan, who 
said she would remain, for awhile at least, as she began 
bathing the temples and chafing the hands, while he 
turning to Miss Ray asked her where she could be seen, 
for he might, if the claim could be established, as he now 
had no doubt it could be, find it necessary to call upon 
her. 

She hesitated, and then instead of directly answering, 
said she had been summoned there that morning and 
the relationship made known to her for the first time, 
but that she could be seen at No. 40 Chapel Street. 

Supposing, of course, tjiat she would remain with her 
mother and soothe her at least, he bade her good morn- 
ing and passed out to stumble on the stairs over Ralph 
Speeder, who had been a careful listener to all, and had 
heard Miss and Mr. Thump in time to avoid them when 
they came in, but was not so fortunate when the latter 
went out, who demanded of him what he was doing, when 
to his surprise he was told that he was waiting to take 
Miss Ray home. 

Astonished even more at this than at what he had 
heard, the lawyer hurried to No. 4 of the court, rapped 
loudly several times, but no response came ; so knowing 
other matters needed him at his office, he hastened along 
Mayfair, and was turning into Friar’s way when, looking 
back, he saw some distance behind him Ralph Speeder, 
and the closely veiled face and figure of Miss Ray beside 
him. 

Shocked at the heartlessness in leaving her mother, 
and puzzled at the fortitude it must take for refinement 
to bear such company, he kept on, more anxious than 
ever to see Mr. Hansom. When he reached his office 
even greater surprise awaited him. Mr. Trout smilingly 
called him for a private interview ; informed him with 
much suavity, many seekings of the imaginary dust bit, 
much smoothing of the lustrous broadcloth, many ex- 
pressions of high esteem for the partner and regrets 
at severing business relations, that he was about to 
leave for Wenham and Quelton, where properties awaited 
his wife, who bore the maiden name of Margaret Ray, 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 449 


and that the attendant cases of the same properties 
would be all that he needed for employment. Mr. 
Thump mastered his surprise, congratulated him, and 
remarked that he had heard of these estates, yet thought 
there was a link missing in the chain. 

“Do you mean this.^” said the wily Trout blandly 
smiling as he laid down the veritable paper which craft 
and cunning had so ably helped him to make — a certifi- 
cate of marriage between Mary Seebold and Richard 
Ray. It was well done and not easily .to be detected. 
“ My wife has long held it — left by her mother, who, you 
know, destroyed herself.” 

Mr. Thump murmured something about having heard 
of it, and asked when the partnership was to be dissolved. 

Whenever he pleased, Mr. Trout answered, and if 
he chose, his name could still be retained, but, of course, 
he would expect a small share of the profits. Mr. Thump 
declined the latter, and pleading urgent business stepped 
into his own private room. 

Mr. Trout put on his surtout and sought his bride. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

IN WHICH DIVERS POINTS ARE MADE FOR DIVERS 
PEOPLE. 

Miss Thump, we said, had a thought that came to 
her upon the night of the disclosure concerning the case 
in which Samuel was engaged, and so did it expand that 
from taking a form and shape in her dreams, which were 
necessarily at all times shadowy, it grew to appear be- 
fore her in broad daylight, and as pretty a picture it 
became as she ever cared to look upon, and the best of 
all was, it never gave good Susan one doubt of its ever 
growing proud and turning from her. She saw what 
Samuel did not, and she wondered that he could not. 
She sat rocking and knitting, but often passing her hand 
gently over some imaginary stuff, which must have been 


450 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


delicate, for her fingers moved daintily and paused as if 
in one corner to trace something ; she had even commu- 
nicated her suspicions, but none of the story to Miss 
Hamper, that is, suspicions that something would bring 
something else to light, all of which seemed so vague 
from turret to foundation to practical Mother Martha 
that she only said, she hoped it might be, but did not see 
any immediate prospect. 

However, the thought would not leave Miss Thump, 
and she was endeavoring to devise some way of acting 
upon it when came the scene upon the third floor, last 
house at the end of Blue Bottle Court, which quite as- 
tounded her, and for a time put her fancies to flight. 

She remained with the sick woman whom Miss Ray, 
pleading pressing engagements, left before she became 
conscious. Susan not a whit objected, but eyeing her 
sharply, said to herself, “ Humph, there’s something 
wrong here ; a mother don’t leave a daughter so many 
years, and a daughter don’t leave a mother so soon after 
she’s found her if all’s as it should be.” 

So she bowed stiffly to Miss Ray, who was glad to 
get away, although for mere decency’s sake she said she 
would return and watch with her mother as soon as she 
was at liberty to do so. The truth was, she feared Mr. 
Trout might call apd finding her absent might become 
alarmed, for he knew that she was a stranger to all the 
streets of London. But that gentleman, as we have seen, 
was still at his office, where, after arranging matters satis- 
factorily to himself, as we have also seen, betook himself 
to Chapel Street and found Mrs. Trout quite as lovely as 
ever, although with a little pallor which was exceedingly 
becoming. 

She had preceded him long enough to calm some- 
what her nerves, although one would never know by out- 
ward appearance that they had ever been in any other 
state than that of the utmost quietude, to do away with 
all trace of the hearty cry she had taken when she found 
herself freed from the disagreeable presence of Ralph 
Speeder and alone on the second floor end room, to sit 
after it all, thoughtfully enough to decide what to do; 
whether to tell Mr. Trout or whether not to. She hated 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 45 1 

him, and he was her husband ; she hated the woman she 
had seen, and she was her mother. She hated Ralph 
Speeder and yet had accompanied him to Blue Bottle 
Court, even though she had not made his acquaintance. 

She was pleased, charmed with Mr. Thump, yet she 
would not dare entertain him, even in a legal calling, that 
is, not until she was more sure how well and steadily she 
could draw the reins over the man that yesterday had 
given her the right to call husband. So after all these 
thoughts and feelings had held sway each in turn, it is 
not surprising that the roses upon her cheeks were not 
bright. 

Mr. Trout advanced upon her entrance with quite 
the bold assurance of a man meeting his wife. He needed 
now not the strength the fob with its great seal imparted ; 
his knees were not inclined to bend, nor the hand to seek 
the smooth bald head. He smiled blandly as he ad- 
vanced, took her hand, but did not sigh over it — that was 
a necessity of the past now ; so, after looking around the 
room, well at both doors — the one leading into the .pas- 
sage and the one behind which Mrs. Mutter had once 
stationed herself, and cast a tantalizing glance at the por- 
trait of the late Mr. Mutter — he kissed her ; but that she 
returned his loving and spouse-like salutation there is 
some doubt to this day existing in the mind of the writer, 
for she turned very much as if she had been a walking, 
waxen doll, and when near enough to a chair sat down 
and motioned him to take one very near her. He looked 
somewhat surprised, but not at all abashed, remembering 
what the beadle had placed in his hand the day before. 
He had heard of matrimonial differences, of lectures after 
companions had been too convivial to the wifely taste, 
but twenty-four hours could have not possibly engen- 
dered the first, and the last there could be no need of, 
for he was a strictly temperate man, so he did her bid- 
ding, but with the independence of a husband not to be 
awed. 

She had before been perfectly indifferent to the suc- 
cess of her claims, but to look at the matter in all its 
bearings was one and the chief reason why she had 
shown so little interest at the revelations her mother had 


452 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


made ; and upon reflection she resolved to join hei skill 
to that of her husband and play a desperate game, 
although as yet she could not clearly see the why it 
should be necessary, but if she were defeating nobody 
but the Crown there could be no harm done. She had 
beauty, and with money, and her own, too, life with 
Selwyn Sellers Trout might not be so intolerable. So, 
when that gentleman was seated beside her, she began in 
a low tone which sounded, the groom thought, a little 
threatening. 

“ My dear Sell, you married me yesterday, partly 
because my face is not an unpleasant one, chiefly be- 
cause you thought I was the heiress to property invalua- 
ble, and if not you could make me so by your skill in 
weaving much out of nothing. I married you — well, I 
may as well be frank, we shall both be the happier for a 
fair understanding in the beginning — I married you be- 
cause I saw nothing better to do. Do I love you ? 
quite as much as you love me. You admire my face 
and^ love what I shall possess if I become mistress of 
Ivandale. I respect your age and need some one to 
care for' my needs if I remain penniless. Thus we stand 
toward each other. It is useless to be sentimental, for 
we neither of us mean it. That was well enough yester- 
day morning when you visited me, for we were so-called 
lovers ; to-day it is not needed, and at heart distasteful 
to both, for we are married. I have something to tell 
you which will no doubt both astonish and delight you ; 
but let me warn you not to be too certain. I am not. 
But let me assure you of my hearty aid in establishing 
myself heiress to all that I can. It is the first time I 
have cared to do so — listen,” and she recounted the 
events of the morning truthfully, but not so minutely as 
to include Mr. Thump or the part he played, but she 
did speak of Miss Thump, and the name fell with a 
weight upon the ear of Mr. Trout. 

It had been his intention to journey slowly and 
pleasantly to Wenham and gradually instruct Mrs. Trout 
upon what she should know and what she should say 
relative to her past life and childish reminiscences, and 
at Wenham to gather himself what was necessary re- 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE, 453 


garding the family of Major Ray, and so well train her 
that she — armed with the contract that craft and cun- 
ning had supplied him with — could present herself, if 
need be, before a court, and show her own right. The 
beautiful face and graceful form would do much, he 
knew, towards dispelling the doubts, if there were any, 
of this court, but to his intense surprise he found she 
would not need his aid — on the contrary he might be 
forced to call upon hers. But this woman, the mother 
of his wife — could it be true that she was still living, 
and could it be that with so little effort he should be 
possessed of a pretty wife and a handsome estate at 
almost the same time 1 truly he was a lucky man if one 
was to be found, and for her calmness and frankness, he 
thought he began to see in her what he might actually 
love — but it was a feeling far from akin to love; it was 
only a respectful awe which every man has for a woman 
who is capable of outwitting him or anyone else. So 
he expressed his great satisfaction at the turn things had 
taken, thanked her for her proffered assistance which he 
knew would be of great value, but he wisely held his 
peace regarding their reasons for marriage ; he neither 
acquiesced in, nor contradicted her statements, and as 
in all their after life they acted upon these hypotheses, 
it is to be supposed that he accepted them. So, after 
agreeing to take her next morning 'to Blue Bottle Court, 
and if things developed as they hoped, to start at once 
for Wenham, he arose, for he heard Zeke opening the 
street door, and, lest it might be an ‘‘ happlerkant,” and 
thus bring them under the gSLze of Mrs. Mutter, took her 
hand, pressed it to his lips in a gallant way — upon which 
act Mr. Mutter looked from behind the gauze quite 
cynically ; he had been sold into bondage, but death had 
been merciful — bowed low and with hat in hand re- 
treated to the passage-way and walked out while Zeke 
held open the door. Pleased beyond measure with his 
wife, and annoyed with himself for what he had said and 
shown to Mr. Thump, he went to his lodgings and there 
awaited the morrow. 

Mr. Thump sat busy in hand with points to be made 
for other clients, but his mind would wander to the in- 


454 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


terview of the morning. Mr. Hansom had promised he 
would call in, and in time he did. Stump, stump up the 
stairway came the ebony cane and its master, whose 
voice was soon heard without ; he hastened to open for 
him the door. The elderly gentleman in cheery tones 
saluted him and sat down again with the aid of the cane, 
in the same leather-covered chair he had occupied twice 
before. 

“ We came,” said he, after taking breath, “ Owlie and 
I, just to look in upon you, sir, but it there is no need of 
our tarry — I see you are at work upon points for other 
folks — we’ll make it short, sir, very short.” 

“ There is great and pressing need, I assure you, 
Mr. Hansom,” returned the lawyer with a serious air and 
face. 

“Ah, ah, then, if I tarry, I will make myself more 
comfortable, sir, with your permission,” and the hat was 
carefully removed from the mongrel curls, which were put 
in place, if perchance any of them had fallen where they 
would make too much weight, and consequently it might 
be a disarranging of them all, the velvet cape was un- 
clasped and thrown off his shoulders. “ Now then, Owlie, 
are we ready, eh "i I think so ; yes, quite ready. Do you 
still find chance at work, or are you getting scruples and 
want to give up the case } You are an honest man, and 
will tell me the truth, I know, sir. 

“ To answer your first question, Mr. Hansom,” replied 
the lawyer, bringing from behind his ear the quill he had 
been using, and depositing it upon the rack, “ I will say 
that I do not know what to call it that is at work with 
us — whether chance or not, but it seems to me there is a 
power ; yet I have not made up my mind what to call it.” 

“ And never mind so long as we win, sir ; only don’t 
call it chance, sir ; don’t call it chance,” broke in the 
elderly gentleman, turning the golden bird upon Mr. 
Thump. 

“ And as to the last question,” went on the lawyer, 
without heeding the interruption, “ I have not the least 
intention so long as you are satisfied with my services, to 
let go the case. Now, I have something to tell you, that 
came to my eyes and ears this morning.” 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 455 

Listen, Owlie, listen; glitter, glisten, glow, and burn, 
too,” cried Mr. Hansom eagerly, as he drew his chair 
a little nearer the table, and felt as if for the safety of his 
beard. 

Minutely Mr. Thump recounted the scene, the words, 
the gestures, the efforts of the sick woman ; the indiffer- 
ence, the pride, the beauty, the grace of Miss Ray ; the 
finding of the same man outside waiting for her, who had 
called with the letter for Mr. Trout ; then his interview 
with that gentleman and the announcement he had made. 

To all Mr. Hansom listened and replied with a merry 
twinkling in the gray eyes, “ Glad, sir, glad to hear this. 
I knew of Margaret Ray, sir, but left her for you to find, 
and you have. Yes, but Mr. Trout found her first, and 
that only makes one of my points, too, that he was plot- 
ting with Marplot and against us. It has come at last, 
what I have long looked for. Now watch — if Mr. Trout 
leaves with Mrs. Trout for Wenham, let me know at once. 
It this woman tells her story to-morrow and brings other 
papers to light, let me know at once, sir, at once. In 
the meantime tighten on Marplot. Have ready, sir, 
writ, warrant, or whatever you call it, to take him, and 
have an officer to read it to him in plain, clear English, 
so he will know what it means. Leave out all the where- 
fores, therefores, and whereases you, can, and yet keep it 
legal, and have him capped, sir, and remanded. No bail ; 
no, sir, no bail. Listen, have it ready, but don’t serve it 
till we hear what she says ; if she can’t tell to-morrow, 
sir, she will next day. Mark me, sir, mark me, we are 
all safe, and our client — did you ever see a prettier face 
than she has ? and you may call her proud if you will, 
but it is the right kind of pride, sir, and a pride that’s 
becoming. I have heard of her, yes, beautiful she is 
and graceful, and a lady — a lady, eh, Owlie ? Things are 
working so well. I am pleased, sir, but do not hold 
Mr. Trout for complicity in enticing Maria Ray to Lon- 
don ; let him go till the case is clearer, poor fellow. I 
must laugh,” and the curls danced, the beard shook as 
Mr. Hansom did laugh more heartily than Mr. Thump 
thought he could. 

“ That is a relief, for I did not think him guilty,” 


456 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


said Mr. Thump, “and he seems so happy in his new 
venture.” 

“ And as we all wish him much joy, we will go, Owlie 
and I. Go on with the points for others ; we are all 
right, sir, and a pretty client she is ; a worthy one, too, 
but proud, yes, proud, but good when you know her,” 
and he drew on the cloak, put on the hat, leaned heavily 
upon Owlie, brought his bowed form as near perpendic- 
ular as he could, assuring Mr. Thump that Isaac Harold 
or himself could be found at No. 4 Blue Bottle Court at 
any time now, bade him good morning with great glee, 
and stump, stump, stump went the ebony cane down the 
stairs. 

Let us go back to the early morning, when Meg was 
putting in order the room of the mother of Margaret 
Ray. Snatcher lay in waiting for somebody; she had an 
expectant look as the heave brought her up where she 
could see along the quay and along the street leading 
from it, and presently came the tall form of Mr. Wal- 
lace, and beside him the uncouth, ungainly figure of 
Peleg Hamper. The latter, with one of the paddles he 
carried, on his shoulder, leaned over and drew the b'oat 
nearer. They both jumped in ; she was loosened from 
her moorings, the prow turned to mid-stream, from there 
up — up — in long strokes, where the way was clear; she 
was carried forward, in short strokes, where many craft 
were near. The sail was not spread, for they were not 
going hither and thither at the whim of the wind, but 
up, up they sped to some particular spot ; and when they 
had reached it as near as possible, Mr. Hamper let the 
paddles rest a little, only used them enough to keep from 
drifting down again. 

“ Mister Wallace,” said he, with the same air of de- 
termination upon his face that he wore when he led Meg 
to Miss P. Barley’s, called for that lady and boldly sat 
and trimmed the sail that took the child on a musical 
voyage, “I told ye, days back, as I’d a story to tell ye, 
an’ it was so doubtin’ if I ’ud find ye at Jericho that 
I sed we’d take a pull up stream. I told ye o’ the first, 
un Jane an’ me 'ooked in, an’ ’ow it war we got inter the 
way on it. Ye rekellect, sir ?” 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 457 

Mr. Wallace nodded assent and clenched his fists 
tightly as he looked into the water. 

“ Well, this war the spot, so near as I ken tell,” went 
on Peleg rapidly lest the courage to- heave the whole 
cargo might desert him. “Ye rekellects, too, I sed 
Snatcher war oneasy-like an’ steered to it — that be the 
woman I means that we took in — but I didn’t tell ye 
that we couldn’t turn ’er about, she ’ud go cross stream, 
spite o’ all the cap’n — ye know Jane war cap’n that 
night — could do — an’ what did she steer to .? D’ye see 
that cove d’ye see. Mister Wallace.?” and he bent 
eagerly forward with his stiff grimed forefinger out- 
stretched, his hat brim knocked up, while his eyes 
seemed to behold again* what they had on that night 
fifteen years before. 

He was silent for a moment and then continued in a 
whisper, “ There war anchored the sweetest, cleanest 
little thing ye ever see’d — rolled in a cloak, an’ sound 
asleep, as if the foul water war clean an’ ’ad never a 
took the mother o’ the young thing from ’er. Jane 
got out an’ took ’er in ’er arms, an’ I never seed Jane so 
tender like an’ lovin’ as she war then an’ ever arter to 
the child. An’ settin’ down in Snatcher agin, never 
touched ’and to a paddle, sir ; she war a woman, then, 
ye see — there war a child to keer for. She pinted to me 
to pull down stream, then nodded to the woman in the 
bottom o’ the boat, then to the wee thing in ’er arms. 

‘ She shipped without ’er,’ war all she sed, an’ hugged 
tighter the bundle. We ’ad Gaff then, an’ Jane loved ’im, 
but some’ow this child ’ad a way that war more winnin’, 
ye see. Mister Wallace ; it war ’er build that made ’er 
so. Well, we got back to the quay, ye might a’ thought 
it ’ard pullin’, but it warn’t. Snatcher cut the water like 
a bird. Jane took the child to Wreckers, an’ I kep’ look- 
out on the body till they war astir at the dead-’us, an’ 
ye knows the rest ; I told ye that. But the child — that 
be what I pulled up stream for this mornin’. I wants to 
talk about ’er. 

“ When I found Jane she ’ad looked ’er well over ; ’er 
covers war the tenderest ye ever see. Around ’er waist 
war a bit o’ cloth sewed inter a ’old, an’ in it war money, 


458 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


fer the breedin’ o’ the poor thing, I sed. I took it out, 
an’ Jane an’ me tried to figger ’ow much it war, but 
we couldn’t make clear sailin’ on it arter two ’undred 
poun’ ; so, says I, ‘Jane, the Wreckers might be good 
in the long run, an’ thar might be bad ’uns among ’em, 
an’ it beent safe to bear sich a ’eavy cargo ; we’ll watch 
fer any that might come to the un we ’ooked in, an’ 
if we see they look fair, we’ll tell ’em what we found, 
but if not we’ll keep ’er, an’ I’ll put this war other folks 
does that ’ave pouns a bit ’efty’. 

“Jane nodded an’ got right up an’ looked at the 
sleepin’ thing, an’ then beckoned to me to come too. 

“ Well, it war a pretty sight as 1 ever wants to pull 
up to. I ken see it now, an’ I’ve seed it so many, many 
nights o’ late. She war under full sail, jist takin’ as 
quiet a voyage sleepin’ as if she’d been in ’er mother’s 
bed. ’Er ’ead war on ’er arm, an’ ’er arm war trimmed 
an’ rigged so neat that ye could tell the whole craft war 
no common build. So we watched at the dead-’us till 
the cart took 'er away, an’ nobody come as took any in- 
terest in ’er, ’xcept the un that come to look at t’other 
clean un, and the un that wants the papers from Gaff. 
I knew by ’is rig ’e warn’t the un to tow ’er, an’ yet I 
never put my mind so much on un as I ’ave sense t’other 
sweet, clean un war ’ooked in, an’ ’e begun a cruisin’ arter 
me — for ’e do it, I sees 'im, night arter night, when ’e 
don’t see me. I told ye I’d let ye know when I ’ad a 
pull alongside o’ ’im, but some’ow I can’t do it, mister, 
no, I can’t. ’E wants to pull up, an’ I see it, an’ think 
I’ll ’eave to an’ lay quiet till ’e comes, but I can’t, I can’t. 
So besides the what I ’ad to tell o’ the child I ’ad that 
to say, I can’t talk to ’im.” 

“ And it may be just as well, Mr. Hamper ; I am not 
so anxious about an interview between you two as I was, 
and for that reason I have not been to the river of late. 
Isaac Harold told you that I was too busy to come,” 
said Mr. Wallace, as Peleg paused to take breath and 
pull a little up, for they were drifting down, and he de- 
termined to keep near the spot, as if for inspiration and 
courage. 

“ Yes, ’e told me, an’ then I felt more’n ever I roust. 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 459 


So I tried agin last night ’e war ’ere, but I could’nt — no 
use, suthin’ draws me back, an’ ’olds me taut, an’ then I 
git to worritin’ over the child. But I must go back to 
the time when we' took ’er in tow. I found a port that 
’ud keep the poun’s an’ give me suthin’ fer the keepin’ on 
’em ; an’ why, I never could yet git a clear grip on, but 
I didn’t say nothin’ agin it, an’ so ye see we took keer o’ 
the mite an’ let the poun’s lay at anchor ; so by the time 
the young thing war ready for letters, figgers, an’ manners, 
we ’ad suthin’ to ’old the sail with. Jane shipped, as I 
told ye, an’ then Marthy, Sister Marthy, bided with us, 
an’ they be a ’appy pair together. An’ uncle — that be 
what the child calls me. I never can tell ’ow it be that 
the child done it, but she be master o’ every bit o’ this 
old craft, an’ if she comes trippin’ to the quay an’ says, 

‘ Uncle, I must pull a bit with ye,’ I never feels the ache in 
the bones then ; I turns the prow to mid-stream an’ feels 
like a^new craft. If she looks sorry, 1 lays it right to ’eart 
an’ carries a ’eavy cargo till I sees ’ers lightened. An’ 
she be a carryin’ a ’eavier un now than she can steer 
well under — I sees it, an’ knows it, an’ it makes me ’old to 
the jib sometimes,” and at this he put his hand upon his 
head as if in pain. 

He was silent a few moments and then continued : 

“ It gits so full o’ wind up thar when I thinks o’ it, that I 
comes nigh capsizin’. Ye see she be built, trimmed, and 
rigged to sail with the finest, an’ Samuel Thump, o’ Lun- 
ley Lane — mebbe ye’ve ’eard o’ im V' 

Mr. Wallace replied that he had, but ventured no re- 
marks, for he was listening with body bent forward and 
eyes fixed upon Mr. Hamper to catch every gesture and 
every word. 

“ ’E wants ’er to sail with ’im,” continued Peleg, “ an’ 
she beent loth to do it, but she won’t, an’ I say it be 
right, till she can show ’er colors an’ er name, but it be 
’ard fer ’er to do, an’ it be ’ard fer Samuel, an’ I am not 
so hearty as I war, an’ the poun’s be shiftin out o’ the 
port fast, fer she ’ave so many needs now, so it be no 
wonder I feels worrit, an’ thar be no un else I could tell , 
it to — this that I knows — she be a born leddy, an’ we must 
find the port she ’ailed from. I thinks ye can ; she be 


THUMFS CLIENT, 


460 

o’ age soon ; it be figgered on a paper I found on ’er 
I’ll give you ’er rig that she ’ad on when we got ’er, an’ 
the paper,” and he drew from under the great loose coat 
he wore a package, and handed it to Mr. Wallace. “ The 
cloak we some’ow left ashore on the cove, an’ I pulled 
up fer it next day, but it war gone, in course. It breaks 
my ’eart to do this, fer if Meg — that be ’er name, I 
didn’t tell ye — ’ud sail away in to waters that I be on- 
easy in, what could I do but go to Jane? Now, Mister 
Wallace, do all ye can to find ’er name an’ colors. She 
be proud an’ says to Samuel, ‘ It’ll never be till I know 
it.’ It be right, but it be a ’eavy cargo for the young 
thing. Now, I’ve told ye the most, but not as good as I 
meant for ; but ye can see it takes ’eavy strokes o’ the 
’eart to do it.” 

Mr. Wallace took the package, and bidding Mr. 
Hamper still keep Snatcher near the spot, brol^e the 
cord that held it — Martha Hamper had tied it years 
before when the clothes had been thrown aside by rea- 
son of their limited space to hold the hearty, happy little 
Meg, who grew day by day as if she had nothing else to 
do, and a' deal of that. He laid them out upon his lap 
piece by piece, gently, tenderly, as a mother would the 
worn robes of a dead child : he examined them care- 
fully; there was no mark upon them, but the paper — 
that he seized, and as he read the drops stood upon his 
forehead, though the air was cold ; his hand trembled, 
though the words were few. 

“Thank God!” he exclaimed in a voice of soul-felt 
gratitude, but it lightened not the shadow on the troub- 
led face of Peleg Hamper ; he saw the time was coming 
when Meg would go out from the court and return no 
more. 

“ Ye look, mister, as if it war suthin’ y’d been cruis- 
in’ arter,” at last came from him, for Mr. Wallace said 
no more, but sat gazing as if he dreamed — and so he did 
— but his dreams were happier now than they had been 
for years. 

“Yes,” he replied looking up like one just awakened, 
and yet he had heard what Mr. Hamper had said. 
“ Yes,” and if Meg would be happier, tell her ; you will 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE, 46 1 

soon know who she is, and may give Samuel Thump a 
hope that her family and birth will soon be clear. But 
you call her Meg. How is that V' 

“ That be the name she called ’erself,” returned Pe- 
leg, drawing the broad brim over his eyes, and turning 
Snatcher about. “ 1 thought I’d like to see the way clear 
afore ’er, an’ so I does, so I does, but — but — when she 
be gone from the court ” — and he drew the rough sleeve 
across his eyes, while the great strong form was shaken 
with the sobs that he could not choke down. 

“ If she is what I think she is, Mr. Hamper,” said 
Mr. Wallace in comforting tones, “ you will never find 
any change in her.” 

“ But she’ll be gone from the court.” 

“ And may take you with her.” 

“ 'Ud she tow a ’ulk like me — sHe, the sweetest clean- 
est craft on the water .?” he murmured to himself as he 
took the paddles with lighter heart and hand and rowed 
down to the quay again, where they parted after Mr. 
Wallace had slidden into the large open pocket of Peleg’s 
coat a note — similar to the one upon the Bank of Eng- 
land which Isaac had taken to Miss Thump — and as- 
sured him that he should hear from him as soon as he 
found out anything leading to the establishing of the 
girl as anybody but Meg Hamper. The clothing and 
paper he had tied again and given to him with the in- 
junction to keep them till he should call for them. He 
walked hurriedly to Blue Bottle Court. 

Isaac had returned, but as we said not until Mr. 
Thump, Miss Ray, and Ralph Speeder had passed out 
of it. And after this Mr. Hansom found his way to the 
office in Lunley Lane. 

The next morning came and brought Mr. Trout to 
Mrs. Mutter’s. Mrs. Trout having said nothing to 
Ralph Speeder concerning further need of his services, 
he did not appear to her, but he might have been found 
then, and many mornings after, in a closet he had discov- 
ered in the dark passage leading to the flight to which 
Mrs. Trout ascended, but not Mr. Trout; he sat in the 
fly, for they took one, and if he was needed, that vehicle 
being stationed around the corner, he could soon present 


462 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


himself with his wife. But he had not long to wait ; , she 
soon returned saying the woman — she did not call her 
mother — was in the delirium of fever, and till it had 
passed there was no hope of her story being told. So 
day after day they went, the fever was slowly decreasing, 
but the exhaustion was great ; not one delicacy did she 
take, not one shilling did she offer; if either was ever 
thought of she said to herself “she left me to strangers.” 

Meantime the honest and well-reputed Trout kept 
himself away from Lunley Lane. His messages to Mr. 
Thump were to the effect that he was arranging per- 
sonal affairs and in a few days would call to make final 
settlements of any matters pertaining to their late part- 
nership. The truth was his confidence in his scheme 
had been too great, and he knew it ; he had not been dis- 
creet, and he saw it ; yet if it put a more plausible look 
upon things he should say that his wife supposed her 
mother dead. But the certificate, that was the tell-tale. 
He had shown it to Mr. Thump, a man who could detect 
fraud and then pursue it. Craft and cunning had made 
it, and left him to use it unaided. If the mother of Mar- 
garet held one and Mr. Thump should hear of it, as no 
doubt he would, through the all-knowing Mother Susan, 
one might be pronounced a forgery, and suspicion be 
thrown upon the other. So the wily Trout was in troub- 
led waters. The vaults subterranean had in some one of 
the suspicious moods of the late'Lord Radnor been made 
the deposit of papers which were of little moment in the 
present case, although an inheritor would of course claim 
them ; they were deeds, claims made and claims liqui- 
dated, genealogies, etc., a thousand and one things which 
a family of lineage and title should hold. It was among 
these that the lawyer had found a certificate of marriage, 
for it must be known that Major Ray had claimed the 
crest and title of Radnor upon Mary Seebold’s name ; this 
he knew, and that he copied in scroll and curve, and 
from it had made what he had exhibited with so much 
blandness to Mr. Thump. From these family records 
he had also learned much that he should deem it neces- 
sary to also instruct Mrs. Trout upon when they should 
be in Wenham. 


DIVERS POINTS FOR DIVERS PEOPLE. 463 

The bait was golden, but the swimming with it diffi- 
cult. There are men by the score who would have laid 
claim, proved it, possessed and fled while he was waiting 
— looking for the speck, the dust bit, the bubble, and 
losing the main thing. 

At last, one morning, the woman said she felt able to 
speak. The lawyer, Mr. Thump came ; the magistrate 
came. Mrs. Trout made her usual daily call, and, of 
course, this time remained. Mother Martha and Mother 
Susan were already there. She was propped up, looked 
about calmly, and then said to Margaret, “ Your hus- 
band, where is he ?” So Mr. Trout was summoned from 
the fly, and came at once blandly into the presence of 
Mr. Thump. 

Mr. Wallace saw them all pass in, but his heart was 
heavy. The little room of the one-storied dwelling was 
darkened, the black silk cap had been removed, and 
small sacks of ice had taken its place, the breathing was 
long-drawn and ended often in a low moan ; the slender 
hand clutched nervously, but involuntarily at the snow- 
white covers of the little cot upon which Isaac Harold 
lay unconscious. There was little to do, the doctors 
said, till sense returned, but to keep the utmost stillness 
about him. Great Heart sat by him, but he did not 
know it; dearie looked pityingly down upon him, but his 
eyes were closed ; the green-grocer from the corner had 
seen the medical attendants go in and come out, and had 
stolen in to ask tearfully what he could do. Nothing, 
nothing but wait till he should open his eyes, for a brief 
time in this life, or unseal them only when in the other. 

The night before, he and Great Heart had been sit- 
ting before the glowing coals, talking of Joe’s return, 
which they hoped for in a day or two, but should be 
sure of before another week had passed. Isaac was 
merry and expectant at times, and at times quiet and sad, 
looking into the embers and tracing, as he told Great 
Heart, a toilsome journey to gatherings before him. 
When evening was well advanced, and he had put on the 
teapot for a cup before retiring, he sat on the prie-dieu 
with bowed head, which he suddenly lifted, and turned 
towards the window that looked out upon the court. 


464 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


His face grew purple, his eyes started from their 
sockets, his hand, which he had extended, stiffened, and 
he fell upon the ground. 

Great Heart started, looked at the window, and saw 
there a face that had once been beautiful ; he recog- 
nized it, and before he could beckon it to remain, it 
vanished. He read the cause of Isaac’s attack and sor- 
rowfully lifted him upon the cot, summoned from the 
Blue Bottle tavern a messenger to whom he gave a note 
signed by a name that brought the best medical skill 
London could offer, to the humble court, and he never 
left him for a moment. 

Poor Harold ! it was his last gathering on earth ; 
one look at that face, after so many years of anxious 
search, weighed down the sack so that he sank beneath it. 

The portals were already turning upon their hinges, 
slowly, softly but surely, making ready to swing wide 
open for the entrance of this patient, long-suffering, yet 
always hopeful soul. 


CHAPTER XLIV, 

TREATS CHIEFLY OF WIND AND WATER. 

The blind man had not been seen at the corner of 
the Wilton and Lunley since Joe had started for Quel- 
ton, and this fact gave still stronger foundation to Mr. 
Thump's suspicions. But legal gentlemen being given 
much to theorizing, it may be that the extra wrap which 
the mendicant wore for several mornings previous to the 
final one, was not sufficiently warm to protect what he 
said were his rheumatic joints— for it was an old coat. 
True, it had been of good appearance once, but it was 
fast fitting itself for the last hook upon which it would 
hang — that of the rag-picker — or it may be, that after 
having done his work he was enabled to retire and live 
upon the pence and half-pence dropped in his hat ; at all 
events, he was not to be seen, and the fact was not un- 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. 465 

noted by Miss Thump also. And here let us say, that 
that good lady, with a small part of the twenty-pound 
note sent her, had bought, planted, watered, and weeded 
upon the grave of Maria, some of the choicest blooms 
that would grow outside of the even temperature of the 
hot-house, and before the first frost could harm them, 
they were neatly potted and safely housed in her own 
little cottage, to be tended, pruned, and trained for next 
year’s re-setting. In her visits to the grave, she had 
almost always had the company of Meg, who still had a 
tearful eye and sobbing breast at the thought of the fair 
and beautiful face beneath. 

Of late, it will be seen that Susan had been very busy 
in attendance upon the mother of Margaret Ray, for she 
and Martha had taken by turns and together, the entire 
charge of her. The night after the story of her life had 
been related in the presence of the magistrate, and by 
that august functionary had been taken down, sealed, 
signed by her and by the witnesses. Miss Thump was 
alone with her. Meg had been kept from seeing her, 
and so long as she was cared for by others, the girl was 
content not to look upon her again, so she attended to 
the household affairs, and thus Mother Martha was at 
liberty. She had been home in the afternoon for rest 
and sleep, promising to relieve Susan by nightfall, and 
by that time the wind had changed from a cool breeze 
to fitful, searching gusts, one of which blew the outer 
door in Wreckers Court ajar, and as Miss Hamper arose 
to close it, she said, “ It’s chill without to-night, Meg, and 
I’ll take some extra covers, and a small basket of tea, 
toast, milk, and a very little soup. Too much in a sick- 
room doesn’t do. So,, if you will arrange them. I’ll run 
up to the other end of the court, and see how the baby 
is to-night, if you don’t mind, child. I’ll only bide long 
enough to cheer its mother.” 

She drew a warm silk hood — the work of Meg’s 
fingers — over her head, and a knitted shawl — the work of 
the same fingers — over her shoulders ; and as she passed 
out quickly, a figure, which had not a frank, free, for- 
ward motion, struck suddenly as it could off to the left, 
and then fetching up against something was off to the 


466 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


right, and by that time it had, in its diagonal course, 
reached the street from which the court ran. 

She looked after it, but it was too cunning to look 
after her ; it must seem to be in the court upon its own 
legitimate business, and not notice others who happened 
to be abroad too. It had come to Wreckers, hoping for 
a word with Gaft', who either had not kept his promise, 
or else Ralph Speeder had played false. To be sure the 
hundred pounds had never been intrusted to his care ; 
there had only been a stipulation to be given in this wise 
— that the night after the delivery of the papers, the 
money should be delivered by Marplot in person ; so, 
being uneasy, lest some other had forestalled his offer — 
and yet could there be anyone who knew that Gaff had 
them } — he was on the lookout for Gaff, and if he was 
not to be found there, Peleg might be approached upon 
the whereabouts of the ring ; and not finding them at the 
quay or near it, he supposed they must be at home, for 
Snatcher was mo'ored. But he did not see them, though 
he looked through the clean glass that let the daylight 
into the sitting-room of the Hampers, and saw there 
Meg. In gazing at her, he forgot where he was and 
heeded not the outgoing of Miss Hamper, till she was 
upon him, and with the oozings of his conscience, each 
moment multiplying their drops, till they fell in streams 
down his face and neck, he betook himself away as we 
have seen.* 

Not liking the look of the figure, not liking the sneak- 
ing way it went, Miss Hamper stood without long enough 
to leave Meg under the belief that she had been to the 
other end, and cheered the mother, and then went in. 
The girl had made ready the basket, folded the cover, 
and was herself leaning over the drawing of Snatcher, 
which had been begun so many weeks before. 

Mother Martha saw a happy look on her face, and 
tarried a moment in the doorway to watch her — when 
Meg, after a stroke here and a dash there, raised the 
picture and met the kindly eyes upon her, and said, 
“ Mother Martha, I am so glad that I feel just like 
finishing Snatcher to-night ; uncle has been looking for 
it so long, and whenever I took up my pencil to draw the 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. 467 


water, the marks flowed past, and I could not keep 
them, and when I tried to read, that dreadful washing, 
washing carried away the words ; but it is gone, Mother 
Martha, and I am so happy that I do not believe it will 
ever come back. I shall have this ready for uncle to- 
night; he says I have put the tired look on her that 
Snatcher has after a long pull.” 

“ As if a boat could look tired or be. tired, Meg,” 
interrupted Miss Ham'per with a toss of her head. 

“But uncle thinks so, so that it is just as real to 
him ; and I can see it myself, if you do laugh at it.” 

So, busying herself with sundry household duties, 
Martha turned from Meg and thus awaited Peleg’s return. 
For she would not leave the girl alone while thinking 
of the shambling figure and trying to recall where she 
had seen it, which in the meantime had betaken itself 
to Poorly’s Resort, with a deal of determination now, 
and all at once a closing of its glands and conseque'htly 
a giving of the handkerchief ample time to share its 
moisture with the stuff of which the pocket was made, 
and the hands being released from the wiping away 
of the secretions, had opportunity to spread a lunch in 
the small room. 

It was not a lunch sparse in quantity or quality; it 
was not such a lunch as one would expect to look upon 
if he should slyly gaze through the narrow, dirty panes 
upon the bdre deal table mottled so thickly with grease 
from burned-low candles, in times gone by, and from 
chunks of pork out of pies that had long ceased to be 
pies, yet had left ample traces that they had once been 
there. It was a lunch laid for more than one, and yet 
it did not seem to limit itself to two, nor positively affirm 
it was spread for three. 

There was a jug under the table, and its contents 
were by no means stinted, if we may infer from the way 
its owner lifted it there from the cupboard near by ; its 
strength was by no means diminished or diluted, if we 
may infer by the long inhalations when he took the 
cork from the mouth, and from the odor it sent through 
the room. It was strong, not because it was of vulgar 
inferiority, but it was strong because it was old, because 


468 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


it was prime ; thus much for what was under the table. 
Upon it for a centre-piece was a platter without any 
rim, but this was not discernible, or rather the loss of 
the rim was not, except in one place where an unruly 
and unevenly broken corner would obtrude itself be- 
tween the contents of the dish as if it were determined 
to show to the world that the platter was not what it 
pretended to l^e, and that it was in duty bound to bear 
evidence to that fact. But to those who would surround 
the bare table, the matter of rim or no rim was of little 
moment ; they would not be at all fastidious, and doubt- 
less by the time the ample stock of pies, kidney and 
mutton, with which the platter was piled, had become 
so reduced as to disclose the lack of rim, the contents 
of the jug would be diminished in equal, if not greater 
proportions, and to their eyes the rimless would become 
rimmed, and the tell-tale angle would be as likely and 
mote than likely, to be seen playing jack-in-the-box from 
some one of the pies as quietly protruding from the 
body of the platter. 

The accompaniments to the pies set on either side, 
were rolls and butter ; the latter, an unheard-of lux- 
ury in Poorly’s Resort, was quietly easing and oozing 
itself in the warmth and closeness of the atmosphere 
upon a plate that had once been tin, in fact, it was tin 
yet, but had lost all semblance to that metal — brightness. 
The rolls were not pretentious enough to need anything 
to uphold them but the straw-paper upon which they 
had been brought from the baker’s shop. 

It will, no doubt, strike the reader, as it struck those " 
who peeped • through the narrow, dirty panes, that it 
was an odd lunch for those who had been to supper, 
and who, consequently, would care for less hearty, or 
more unusual accompaniments to the contents of the 
jug — which are always cared for whatever che hour of 
night or the amount already laid in for digestion. It 
had more the appearance of a lunch for some body or 
bodies who had not been to supper, and besides might 
be tired, dusty, and perhaps crusty, and for these what 
was under the table would prove a most speedy anti- 
dote. 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. 469 

Mr. Marplot looked upon the table with great satis- 
faction. The table and what was spread upon it looked 
upon Mr. Marplot, but seeing nothing in his repulsive 
face to satisfy them, they retained the same immovable, 
expressionless countenances, for not daring to look dis- 
satisfaction it were better to be neutral. 

He had lost the terrified look he had an hour or 
more before ; the glands, as we said, were resting, the 
mind was more at ease, the wickedness within was un- 
bound again to roam whither it would, but only to pre- 
pare him for what was speedily at hand. 

Rubbing his hands without much trouble, for they 
were not moist, he said to himself, “ Maybe Tm a fool 
to go near him, but I’d rather have what he’s got ; it 
makes surer work. I’ll go down again some night and 
I’ll look into the court again. It’s fancy, mere fancy — 
I’m always fancying. I wish I could kill this way I 
have of fancying till it throws me into a fit. Conscience, 
I suppose the good folks who leave tracts in Poorly’s 
Resort would call it, but I don’t agree with ’em for 
it’s fancy, fancy, nothing else. But my plans will soon 
be something more than plans, and then I’ll have no 
use for fancy. Trout thinks it’s half and half the Ray 
estate, with a good fat fee for the Ivandale settlement, 
Ha ! let him think. If she, Margaret, gets Ivandale, 
I can hold what I know over her, and make a good 
income that way. Yes^ she must get Ivandale ; things 
must be worked quickly now. If Mr. Barley is all right 
— and he can keep so if he is a mind to — I shall push 
straight on to victory. I’ve got Trout — ‘ S. S. Trout’ — 
I can see it now. If it was not for the way I get into 
so often, I could have done this unaided, but I get 
weak and wet and childish — and all comes from fancy, 
too. Curse this fancy ! I must put my foot on it. I’m 
strong now — and think of me two hours ago. Bah ! 
what a fool I was. That face ! No, no, that was washed 
out to sea. Years ago the mother came, but s/ie didn’t. 
I am like myself now. It’s time this minute — he wrote 
me he’d be here to-night ” — and he took out of his 
pocket a watch; consulted its face, and replacing it, 
arose and stirred a few feebly burning coals in a still 


470 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


feebler stove, put a skillet that had long parted with 
its handle upon the fire and into it poured some water 
from a pitcher without a nose, so that it could not boast 
over the skillet, except upon the ground that it was a 
trifle lighter in color, although by no means white. 

This looked as if there was contemplated upon the 
arrival of the expected guest or guests, a mixture of the 
contents of the jug, the heating water, and the sugar 
in the paper bag which he untied, and opened, and set 
upon the table with a spoon, in some places brass, and 
in some places something else, but whatever it was, it 
was not silver, standing most invitingly up as if to say, 
“ Help yourself, help yourself.” Near the paper bag he 
set two long thick glasses and then turned back to the 
cupboard and brought out, reluctantly, a third. After 
this last the door swung back on its one hinge, back 
upon as bare a cupboard as was ever looked into by that 
renowned personage. Mother Hubbard. 

After these final arrangements he turned to the skillet 
without a handle and then to the coals beneath ; they 
were brightening, so, of course, the water was heating in 
proportion. But not feeling satisfied with this effort he 
drew from an old box that contained a pair of disjointed 
tongs, a shovel in better condition than anything yet 
found in the room, and a bellows which was so leaky, 
that work it as rapidly as one could, the air hurried out 
through the leaks at a breakneck pace, utterly ignoring 
the nozzle which was its lawful way of exit, and with 
these he blew the coals. The coals burned feebly, and it 
was more than probable that this was due as much to an 
innate inability to do anything else as from lack of flame, 
and yet after the blowing they seemed to revive, enough 
at least, to soon cause the skillet’s partial removal from 
directly over them. 

So all was ready and awaiting the guest or guests. 
Marplot listened to every footstep that drew near, hoping 
it might linger, but all passed by, and he drew again his 
watch ; this time the hand was not so steady and the 
manner of the whole man was one of less assurance. If 
closely observed, the glands might be seen to be prepar- 
ing for work by the shine they were giving the forehead. 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. 47 1 


He felt all this and knew what it meant — a falling into 
“ that way,” as he called it. 

“ Fancy again,” said he clenching his fist and trying 
to look defiant. Curse it! curse it! Fancy this is 
wrong and that’s wrong and find out in the end nothing’s 
wrong !” He looked timidly at the wall where he had 
seen the two the first time we met him in that dingy 
room. He saw nothing and then looked bolder ; began 
to re-pile the pies and rolls, move the jug an inch or two 
to the right, push the skillet entirely off the fire, all the 
time trying to think himself busy from necessity, and 
all the time listening for every footstep. 

‘‘Twelve o’clock! He was due an hour ago and 
more,” and he drew again the watch and interviewed its 
face. “Curse fan — hark!” one, two, three, a pause; 
one, two, a pause ; one, and catching the candle he hur- 
ried softly to the door, but before he opened it he put his 
mouth to the side and said “ Tom ?” 

“ Ha! you’re right there,” came a cheery voice from 
without. “ Let a fellow in ; it’s too cold to keep closed 
doors on your friends.” 

The bolt was drawn, the key turned, the latch lifted, 
the candle shielded from the wind that was sifting 
through the cracks and only waiting for a chance to get 
enough purchase on the loosely hung door to send it back 
with a good bang, blow out the flickering dip, and run 
riot through the halls, sift under the doors and through 
the keyholes that belonged to the wretched lodgers above 
who had no fire, perhaps, and what little they had it 
would whisk out in a twinkling, and finding it could not 
make things any colder or more uncomfortable generally, 
slip out through the fissure around the window sashes, 
which fitted into the casements very much as the small 
boy fits into his father’s boots, and off again to put out 
more fires, and make more misery among the miserable. 
All this the wind had intended doing, and so confident 
was it of success, that it blew out the candle, despite 
Marplot’s protecting hand, and then attempted to do the 
same, or as near as it could to the door, if not out then 
back. But here the point was disputed most persistently 
by the holder of the extinguished candle, who stoo’d 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


472 

behind and held his own position and the door’s too, 
against the next gust which was even more confident 
and bolder than the last. However, it was more oblig- 
ing, in one particular, yet it did not mean to be : it blew 
Tom in through the small space, allowed by the dispu- 
tant from behind ; or if it did not blow him in, it acceler- 
ated his motions so much, that he speedily got in, and 
joining the force in the rear at once put the wind to 
rout, the door on the latch, the bolt in the casement and 
the key in the lock. The enemy was not at all chagrined 
at his defeat; he whistled a sort of a “ don’t care ” tune, 
with a chorus of, 

“ There’s plenty of doors I can easy blow back, 

There’s plenty of poor I can put on the rack, 

There’s plenty of ra^s I can whisk in the air, 

There’s plenty of forms leave shivering and bare 

and blew on and away. 

Marplot groped a little, and but a little, for the pas- 
sage-way was so narrow that this action was of necessity 
quite limited. The door into his apartment was soon 
found, a match struck, and the candle re-lighted. 

Mr. Barley found his way at once to the feeble stove 
which held the feeble coals, but to him who had faced 
the cold for hours, and felt chilled from hat to boots, 
the coals seemed glowing and their warmth not slight. 
He eyed the skillet without a handle ; he held his hands 
over and in the wreaths of vapor that were curling up 
from the hot water it held; he unbuttoned his outer 
covering, a cloak, which was, no doubt, at its first crea- 
tion intended for the use of a larger, taller, and better 
built man than Barley, a *man of no mean rank in the 
service of Her Majesty. But it had been divested of all 
official signs, and those of the unpretending civilian 
substituted, but the stuff of which it was made, and the 
outlines of its make-up yet remained, although here and 
there a seam had been taken in, sometimes straight and 
sometimes on the slant known to the mantua-maker as 
“ bias ;” any way to make it fit so closely, that when 
grasped by its collar firmly, and shaken warmly, Tom 
could not slip out of it, and thus escape the swinging in. 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER, 473 


How came Tom Barley by such a coat? He had 
advanced upon it. And the needs attendant upon ex- 
travagance and dissipation advanced so rapidly upon the 
one for whom it was made, that he never “ took it up 
but Polly Barley did after it had lain its lawful time 
. for redemption, and she made of it a cloak that she was 
very proud of, for she said it lent an air to Tom that 
he never had before. , 

“ A deuced wind, this,” said he, throwing back this 
garment, after the unbuttoning already recorded. “ Blows 
inside a fellow, as well as out.” He had not yet turned 
about to look at what'Vas on and under the table, but 
he knew the skillet without a handle meant something. 

“ Yes,”* replied Marplot, busy fishing some strands of 
the wick from the cavern of melted tallow into which 
the wind had forced them ; “yes, but it hasn’t been long 
blowing up.” 

“ Blowing up ?’J returned Tom, facing now the pies, 
the rolls, the butter, the paper bag, and the spoon. “ I 
blowed it up a good many times coming from Cross 
Bow down here. But that’s the trouble, it wouldn’t 
blow up, it would blow down, around, in, out, under, 
anywhere but up.” 

“ Suit yourself,” said the host, setting the candle and 
the bottle which held it, just where it could drip on to 
the pies, in case it missed aim in striking the body of the 
bottle ; “ it blows any way you can name it, and I am 
not sorry either, so long as it has not kept you away.” 

“ How’s that, old fellow; anything new up?” Here 
his eyes wandered from uJ>on to under the table, and he 
threw the cloak entirely off, and tossed it and his wide 
brimmed hat upon the little, low, dingy thing that Mar- 
plot called a bed, and drawing a stool as near the table 
as he could, without sitting directly at it, sat down. 

“ Never mind now,” said Marplot, advancing with 
another stool, “ you’re hungry, I knew you would be, so 
I got what you like ; you’re thirsty, so I got — ” and he 
pointed to the jug. “ Now, eat all you can, and drink 
just enough to warm you — mind, only that, till I hear all, 
then you can have jug and cork too.” 

“ If I do — if I do lose myself, just keep me here till 


474 


THUMP'S CLIENT, > 


I’m Tom Barley, sober, for I told Polly I might be gone 
days and weeks. You see I didn’t know how it might 
end — and I can’t knock her down, because I can’t stand 
up, so what can I do but let her swing me in. It makes 
a man feel small if he is drunk. That’s why I thought a 
Mrs. Barley might be better to be on the watch for a fel- 
low than Miss Barley. I don’t believe I could happen 
across another worr^n who could swing me in, if she 
wanted to. But I’m hungry, and as you are drawing up, 
I’ll do the same. A pie — that’s the very thing ; kidney, 
too — all the better for that.” 

He opened his mouth once, and began a vigorous 
movement of the jaws ; he opened it again, followed by 
another movement, and one pie was gone. ' Next, he 
aimed, with hand first, and then with jaws for a roll ; 
breaking it open, he looked for something to lubricate 
it with, and spied the butter, which was still quietly 
spreading itself upon the tin plate. “ Anything to take 
it up with but a fellow’s fingers } They’re stiff yet with 
the cold, but 1 don’t know as ’twould be a bad idea to 
use ’em after all. That looks as if a little stiffening might 
stop its running so fast. What’s it trying to catch, eh ?” 

“The rolls maybe,” said Marplot, opening the cup- 
board and taking from it — its last offering to the table — 
a knife, that had seen better days, and a handle ; when 
the former passed away the latter slipped off and the 
blade was left to mou-rn for both. 

Tom dropped the broken roll, mechanically took the 
knife, and looking quizzingly into Marplot’s face burst 
into a loud laugh. “ Shake hands,” said he. “ I con- 
gratulate you on getting out of that wet drizzly way you 
had tumbled into, and talking like folks. That’s nearer 
to wit than I ever knew you could come. You look 
better, too, old fellow. Now, keep it up, walk straight 
ahead and don’t wipe, and you’ll soon be a man — and 
a man of fortune, too. I’ve got good news for you.” 

At this last remark conscience secreted a little, for 
he pulled out his handkerchief and was about to wipe, 
when Tom flourished the knife blade crying, “ There 
you are at it again while I’m talking ; and if you should 
get up to walk, I suppose, you’d sidle, wouldn’t you } ” 


TREATiS OF WIND AND WATER, 475 


Marplot put back the handkerchief and endeavored 
to stop the -'secreting by drawing out the jug, pouring 
some water into the glasses to heat them, and picking 
up the spoon that had fallen over, tired of seeming any 
longer to say “ Help yourself, help yourself.” 

He knew Tom must eat well and drink a little or 
he would be surly and non-communicative enough to 
hold back the most important, and voluble enough to 
dwell upon the trivial. So he* urged his guest to eat, 
and he did eat, after the roll, another pie — mutton, this 
time — then a roll, another pie, and so on till all the 
butter had run after and with most of the rolls, till the 
pile of pies had been so lowered that the platter could 
no longer be pretentious, but was forced to face the 
truth — that it was a platter without a rim. 

If it had not been for the long journey by coach, 
Tom would have protested against so much food with- 
out drink, but being downright hungry he let Marplot 
have his own way, and his way was to fill him first with 
the solid, so that the fluid could not so soon take Tom 
off his legs and out of his senses. 

This foundation being laid, he proceeded to accept 
the invitation of the spoon and help the glass — from 
which he poured the water, which had served to keep 
it hot — to the contents of the paper bag ; then he held 
the uncorked jug over the sugar, then the skillet without 
a handle ; then he stirred with the spoon of nameless 
composition, then drew from his hat, which lay on the 
bed, a lemon, rolled it, and asked Mr. Barley for the 
knife. 

As that gentleman, after wiping it well upon his boot 
leg, held it up for inspection, his eye caught a mark 
upon it, and he started as he read, after many turnings 
of the blade and sundry applications to the boot leg, 
“ Seebold, Wenham.” At first sight he had caught enough 
letters to lead to this effort at deciphering the rest. 
“ That’s odd, very,” and he turned it to Marplot, who 
read it and trembled as he sliced the lemon. 

Again the glands began to exert themselves, but again 
the indomitable will began to do the same thing, and 
they ceased. “ Strange,” thought he, “ I never tried to 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


476 

make myself conquer fancy before;” and pleased with 
his triumph he stirred, handed to Barley, and began the 
same process with the second glass, the sugar, the spoon, 
the jug without the cork, and the skillet without a handle. 
But when he came to apply the knife to the lemon, 
either one of these or his hand slipped, and he tested 
the keenness of the blade — the blood trickled down his 
fingers, the lemon stung the wound, and the knife lay 
quietly by, contemplating with internal satisfaction the 
effect of the test. It was more than a slight cut of the 
flesh, it was a stab at what there was of his heart, and 
he knew it, for he looked nervously at the wall where 
he had seen the two, snufled the candle, and set it up 
higher in the bottle, so that it might the better dispel 
the shadows. 

“ That’s a bad sign, and your own glass, too ; but 
don’t get to drizzling over it,” exclaimed Mr. Barley, 
as he saw the signs of weakening. “ Come, here’s to 
your fortune. The way’s clear. I’ve got much to tell 
you, and let’s at it now before you drip and wipe and 
I’m drunk and stupid. For that’s where it’ll end, you 
know. I kept my promise, didn’t take a drop while I 
was gone ; and how long must a fellow be sober after 
it, I want to know ? “ No longer than he can get drunk, 

eh That’s it. Here, tie on that rag quick ; here, here, 
lips are dry — one, two — you haven’t made it very strong, 
but you will after I’ve told you all. Here, now, drink to 
fortune and a chance to pay your honest debts, which, by 
the way, you remember, are not small towards me.” 

“Oh, no!” said Marplot, “oh, no I you and I are 
nearly square,” and he sucked the injured finger while 
he looked at Tom triumphantly. “Twenty pounds at 
a time. I’ve been paying you ; here’s your own receipts ; 
you must have been taking something before you got 
here.” 

“ You’re a deuced fool, Dan Marplot ; you can’t 
come your games on me. I agreed not to ask you for 
a year, unless you got your money, and then I was to 
be paid principal and a big lay on for the loan. Twenty 
pounds at a time ! When, where ?” 

As Tom Barley said this he threw back his head and 


r 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. ' 477 

doubled up his fists, as if for a settlement at once in a 
manner which could bring pecuniary benefit to neither 
party. 

“ Wait, Tom, don’t strike,’’ cried Marplot, in a 
whining way, for he was in bodily fear of Mr. Barley, 
although himself a much taller, and every way more 
muscular man. “ See here,” and he spread before him 
receipt after receipt duly dated, written, and signed 
‘ Thomas Barley,’ which that amazed gentleman knew 
were not in his handwriting, and yet he could not tell 
why they were not, so nicely had they been executed. 

“ Who gave you these lies ?” he cried again, assuming 
a pugilistic attitude. 

“Ralph,” said Marplot, who took the true condition 
in at once, and was sharp enough to fill Tom’s glass, 
“ I sent the money by him.” 

“ And that’s what’s kept him alive. I wondered, yes, 
I’ll — ” and pale with rage Mr. Barley lifted the glass 
which had received a copious supply from the jug, 
drained it, and, as Marplot filled again, the wind from its 
boisterous hilarity changed into a low mournful sough- 
ing, and therefore a tap three times given under the win- 
dow could be heard within and not be confused with the 
flapping signs and shaking windows without. 

“ Hark !” said Marplot, on the alert for the third 
at table, “ I thought he might come,” and lest there might 
be trouble upon the meeting of the two guests, he picked 
up the bottle that held the dripping candle and hurried 
out, thinking to remain long enough to give the last glass 
time to confound Tom’s sense of right and wrong, for he 
had often seen him gauged, and knew the third glass 
usually tripped him. But the news he had brought, what 
of that ? Well, he would waken by and by, and talk, so 
perhaps it was as well. 

He had the door open by this time, the last tap of 
the signal having been given, and he found without 
Ralph Speeder. 

The wind did not humbly acknowledge itself de- 
feated, it passed haughtily and scornfully by, as if vexed 
with itself for ever attempting to tarry at the Resort. 

“ Come to say Trout off for — ” and Ralph drew Mar- 


478 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


plot into the passage and away from the door leading 
into his room. ‘ Thank you, can’t come in, see receipts 
— all right. Fellow must live — Tom’ll forget it. — Now 
Trout off for somewhere, you know.” 

‘"Wenham.^” suggested Marplot, eagerly and trem- 
blingly. 

“Mebbe; didn’t see tickets. Just dropped in to tell 
you,” and he moved toward the outer door, which he 
opened and was upon the other side, when, bethinking 
himself of the possibility that he might again hear some- 
thing of interest to Marplot — and yet it was a time of 
night when such was not to be expected — jerked his 
head in saying, “ Call again, let you know more,” and 
with as vicious a leer as ever spread over a face jerked 
his head out and was gone. 

Marplot stood still with the bottle so inclined that the 
tallow drips fell down on his breeches and boots. No- 
thing yet had happened, and what a relief. Trout had 
gone ; would claim it ; and if he — he started and looked 
at the wall opposite, but there was nothing, though he 
thought a shadow passed over it. 

“Fancy again,” he muttered to himself. “Curse 
fancy !” And he turned back into the room, but just’ as 
he did so the outer door again opened and Ralph Speed- 
er’s head appeared. 

“ More news,” said that worthy young man, “ Mrs. 
Trout gone too.” 

“ Mrs. Trout !” exclaimed Marplot— the glands began 
vigorously to work, and the bottle was in danger of pre- 
cipitation to the ground. 

“ Yes,” laughed Ralph; “didn’t you give her away, 
eh.? Too bad — parent, you know, parent — eh .?” 

At this thrust ’Marplot looked wildly at him and 
clutched for the handkerchief. 

“ Come again,” said the visitor and shut the door. 

Bewildered at first the man was, but upon slight re- 
flection it came to him that Ralph had been all his life 
given to playing such pranks, more often making his hits 
by guess than from knowledge, so he took heart again, 
and was thinking how long the journey to VVenham and 
back — how much time the claiming and proving — would 


TREATS OF WIND AND WATER. 4/9 


necessitate, when the door again came ajar and was soon 
swung widely back, while a voice said, “ Margaret’s Mrs. 
Trout.” 

At this lingering without and thrusting within, Mar- 
plot grew angry, and stepping to the threshold seized 
Ralph by the sleeve and pulled him, not gently, in. 
“ See here, what do you mean 1 Say all you’ve got to 
say.” 

Ralph still held the leer, and the pulling in did not in 
the least abash him, but rather added to his boldness 
as he turned and whispered, She’s peached on you. 
Leg it. They’re after you. I can hear it.” As he said 
the last he put his wrists together, and with his tongue on 
the roof his mouth made a sharp noise very much like 
the clinking of a pair of iron bracelets. 

Marplot turned livid, and shook in every joint. 
“ She ain’t in London,” at last he whined. 

“Ain’t she?” cried Speeder. “ Mebbe she ain’t? 
You’ll hear story — good. Ha, ha, ha ! Leg it. Off — off 
now. Sorry for you, but must laugh.” 

“Wait, wait;” and Marplot, still grasping the candle, 
opened the doOr and hurried into the room, for he heard 
footsteps in the distance without. He heeded not Tom 
— who was happy and social, or would be — and tore up 
a plank of the flooring, and thrust his long arm down, 
but found nothing, and holding the bottle near, he 
looked down, but saw nothing. With horror, he turned 
to Ralph in the doorway, and hoarsely whispered, “ It 
ain’t there. I’m robbed — robbed. What shall I do ? 
It must be here.” 

He was about to thrust head, arm, and bottle down 
together, when Ralph said, in a tone of insolent triumph, 
“Can’t find it — no use. Took it. Found you out — 
thought somebody else might get it. Keep it safe — bail 
you — ha, ha, ha! Here they come.” 

Marplot heard them, threw the candle where it would 
light the bed, ran through the long passage to the rear, 
out the door, up by the wall, across some low buildings 
till another street was beneath him, leaped down, sped 
away, still shambling through the poorest, most distressed 
by-ways, till he came to the river. Here, exhausted, he 


480 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


paused, and crouching down in the shadow of an ernpty 
cask, he listened. No one — nothing — within hearing. 
Why had he fled to the water 1 Why and shuddering 
at the question, he arose and was about to skulk away 
in the shadows of the long low houses that at intervals 
skirt the river in every commercial town, but he was 
drawn rapidly back till he came to the water’s edge. 
There he stood with strained eyes and heaving bosom, 
with clenched hands, and brow dripping with the work- 
ing of conscience, till the drippings were so large, so 
heavy, that they fell into the river, and at every fall he 
made as if he would follow them. But the cord that 
had drawn him there, let him so far over the brink, and 
no farther ; it drew him back just as he thought to dry 
the fountains of conscience forever by a plunge. 

He saw the waters roll themselves together again, and 
two banks, now slowly, slowly, come towards him, with 
each onward motion becoming more and more human in 
form. Again the cord loosened, and he made as if he 
would leap, but it held him. He tried to put up his 
hands to shut out the sight, but they were powerless. 
He heard footsteps, and knew by their hurry that he was 
tracked, but he cared not — the banks drew nearer, nearer, 
the cord loosened and tightened, the pursuers would 
soon be upon him, and he would welcome them, for they 
would tear him from the spot his feet were sealed to. 
On, they would break the sight his eyes were fixed upon ; 
and on they came ; but the banks had reached his 
feet, the cord had let him almost to them, and as he 
leaned over, struggling with the desperation of a mad- 
man, they arose, and stretched out their arms as if they 
would envelop him. The cord drew him back enough 
to escape their embrace, and raising his right hand he 
stretched it towards them imploringly ; his horrified gaze 
was frozen ; he tried to make a sound, a cry for mercy 
from them; there came only a gurgling, choking from 
the throat, and when the law’s hand was laid roughly on 
his shoulder, the cord snapped — he fell forward into the 
water — dead. 


JOE COMPLETES THE BUSINESS. 48l 


CHAPTER XLV. 

JOE COMPLETES THE BUSINESS, *SO FAME AND FORTUNE 
MUST FOLLOW. 

The heavy gate grumbled somewhat at the hand 
that had disturbed its long rest, and rustily, crustily it 
closed and was locked from within, much wondering 
to itself what should bring a solitary man and a curious 
dog within the domains it guarded, and if they must 
come, — why did they not leap the boundaries with a joy- 
ous ha, ha ! and derisive grimace, like* the goblins who 
feasted nightly in the banqueting room of the castle ? 

The new comers were of a much too serious, matter- 
of-fact air to suit the gate, for their entrance boded a 
breaking up of the peace and indolence it had so long 
enjoyed. By its creaking it had warned all within 
hearing of the intrusion, and at the first step a shower 
of dead and frost-bitten leaves fell upon Joe and Rover, 
as if to unveil the sight of the old branches and let them 
look once more upon a human face. The master turned 
his eyes upward — they swayed a welcome ; the dog 
barked and tossed the leaves about him — with nose on 
the ground he ran ahead ; where he could not walk he 
leaped. But Joe was not so expeditious in his journey; 
he made his way as best he could, with the aid of a 
heavy walking stick, to the nearest ruins, which he recog- 
nized as those of the old lodge spoken of by Lawyer 
Thump. 

It had been made of less enduring substance than 
the other buildings, so when the ivy and the creepers 
held it, summer and winter, in their damp and clinging 
embrace, each season growing denser and giving it less 
light, less warmth, it grew rotten without, musty within, 
and fell timber by timber. Stones sank as mortar 
crumbled, till it lay a shapeless mass. 


482 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


A large flat stone, which may have served as a step 
to a doorway, offered Joe a soft and pleasant seat, for 
it was covered thickly with bright green moss. Resting 
here he drew forth the iron box from a sack strapped 
across his shoulders, and stretched out the map of the 
grounds. A main avenue ran from the lodge to the 
castle, and to locate it could be done only by noting 
the statues and fountains it led by, and the undulations 
it crossed. Thus he knew where it must be ; where it 
really was could not be seen for rank weeds which had 
thriven upon the coarse soil it had been made of. They 
had sprung up years and years before when the gardener 
had ceased to mow the lawn upon either side and keep 
it clean and stony; they had mouldered autumn after 
autumn till they had made a rich soil from which sprang 
wild flowers and tall grasses, so in naught differed it 
from the rest. A tiled walk followed it, but Joe sought 
not this, yet here and there he could see a stone had 
pushed itself up to the sun and air, either by the upheaval 
of the frozen ground under some long ago spring sun, 
or by the washing away of its bed by some searching 
autumn rain. 

The grasses were matted ; the flower stalks had laid 
down for winter’s rest, and were twined about each 
other; the ground vines were tangled and made loops 
for the feet to catch in, as if they would hold back any 
who would pass over them. But Joe plodded on with 
Rover still ahead. Occasionally a tall fallen tree broke 
the monotony of the wild waste, and he stepped along 
its trunk, sinking into softening wood, or picking safely 
his way from branch to branch. 

Statues were grimed with dust, in which moss found 
sustenance ; winds had severed their limbs or rudely 
snatched from them whatever hands had held or heads 
borne ; fountains were choked ; lakes were dried. As he 
made his way through a clinnp of trees in verdure and 
foliage much like the hardy ‘fir of the northern clime, the 
wind struck him full in the face with a cloud of dust 
with which it was hurrying away to add somewhere to the 
desolation. When it had passed he rubbed as much of 
its burden as it had been pleased to spare, out of his eyes, 


JOE COMPLETES THE BUSINESS. * 483 


but did not so quickly shut its mournful sound out of his 
ears, and saw before him what had once been a gentle 
slope from the castle. This he rapidly covered, for the 
growth over it was less toilsome to step upon, and he 
soon stood before broad stairsteps leading to Ivandale’s 
entrance. The couchant lions that guarded them were 
iron, the storms could not break or move — only rust 
them. Rover barked at them, but they were not aggres- 
sive ; he sniffed about them, but they were passive. The 
winds, always busy, had kept the staircase clean, and it, 
having been of massive make and foundation, was still 
firm. 

Joe ascended, and sat for rest at the base of a pillar 
which, with its mate, supported an archway before the 
door. He opened the bag of provisions, refreshed him- 
self and Rover, folded and laid in its place in the box 
the map of Ivandale’s exterior, and laid upon the broad 
marble floor that of its interior. After its examination he 
selected a key from the many he had and applied it to 
the iron door heavily studded with rivets and thickly 
coated with rust; it fitted but would not turn; another 
and another, but none so near the right one. 

Rover, strengthened by the contents of the bag, be- 
gan a tour of independent inspection ; he dashed down 
the stairway, bounded off the side and over a lion, ran 
around a tower which projected from the right and shut 
off the sight of one side of the building — that is, the sight 
to one approaching the main entrance — he suddenly put 
his nose to the ground, and followed whatever he scented 
till it led him to a sort of porte cochere which protected a 
door similar in make, but not so great in size as the one 
into whose lock Joe had fitted the key. Leaping back 
with a joyous bark, he pulled and tugged at his master’s 
coat till he strapped his bag, gathered together the keys 
and followed him. Could it be that the dog traced the 
last footstep that had led there ? He sniffed again, but 
more rapidly, and Joe soon placed the same key in lock 
and stepped within the castle walls. 

The air was suffocating, its deadness unendurable. 
He threw wide open the double doors ; the wind, always 
inquisitive, rushed in, while he sat down upon a heavy 


484 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


oaken chair that was just within, again to consult the 
way from this new entrance. When sure of his route, 
and quite satisfied with the work the wind had been doing, 
he filliped to Rover, who was without, and they crossed a 
fancifully tiled passage and opened a door at its side. 
Here again Joe paused for the wind to precede him, and 
when he could breathe within, he groped his way to the 
nearest window, then opened the sash and let in light. 
The drapery from this casement had fallen, rent by time, 
and lay in tender folds under his feet. The walls were 
hung in crimson, fringed with the dainty web of the 
spider and adorned with the fantastic open work of the 
house moth ; the carpet was rich in color still, soft and 
sinking beneath the tread ; the chairs were ebony in 
frame, massive in make, graceful in form ; the uphol- 
sterer’s work was faded and dropping ; ornaments costly 
and elegant lent their beauty ; but Joe heeded them not, 
nor heeded the use to which the apartment had been 
put, which was, doubtless, that of a drawing-room. He 
pushed on to the farther end of it and opened a door, 
from which came stifling, musty odors, and he was forced 
to await again the wind’s pleasure some moments before 
he could enter the very banqueting hall where so many 
times he of the padded chair had presided. 

The board was spread — its linen was yellow and 
tattered, its food had hardened, and in doing this, had 
filled the room with heaviness which could not escape ; 
glasses of clear cut and delicate tracery of the Radnor 
crest, stood in disorder — chairs, just as the last guests 
had quitted them, bottles were upon their sides and 
upright, corked and uncorked. One of the latter, Joe 
put in his bag, after he had let in light and air from the 
windows. Behind the padded chair he stepped, tapped 
upon the wall several times, when a panel from ceiling to 
floor flew to the side. 

He lighted a taper, and, followed by Rover, entered. 
The passage led underground, after descending a few 
steps, and took him to a small room, plainly furnished 
with table, chair, some comforts for smoking, reading and 
writing. The table — or desk it might be called — he 
sounded — struck upon it as he had the panel, only more 


TIMES UPr 


485 


softly — and a drawer sprang to view, whose papers he 
examined and bore away. Re-locking and re-closing, he 
found his way again to the ruined lodge, where he rested, 
drank sparingly from the bottle, and before nightfall was 
far from Ivandale. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

“ time’s up !” 

“Time’s up, time’s up,” said dearie very softly, very 
sorrowfully, just as the sun was sending his first beams 
into the little room in Blue Bottle Court upon the morn- 
ing after the demands of justice, not the law, had been 
fulfilled. The sun looked in cheerfully, and played mer- 
rily over the cot as if glad once more to be up before the 
Little Man ; but his face was so pale, his eyelids half- 
closed, his eyes so sunken that it sorrowed, drew in its 
bright rays, covered its face with a cloud, and tears fell 
without. But the people only said, “ It rains.” 

This was done while the starling was still perching on 
the open door of her cage, not pluming herself, for she 
had no care for appearance ; she had lost taste for the 
hempen, the cake-crumbs Great Heart had dropped to 
her were stale, the fig she had covered with sand always 
kept fresh in her wire house. She sat long, and waited 
for a word, a look, from her master, heard the drops 
upon the window panes, and at last ventured, still more 
sadly, “Time’s up, time’s up,” shook her head and was 
turning back to her perch, when the form that had been 
still, the eyes that had not seen for so many hours, 
moved, opened, the lips murmured something. Great 
Heart bent gently over to listen, and she flew down and 
alighted above his head. 

“ Yes, almost up,” he whispered, “ but the gatherings 
are so beautiful, the sack so large, the road so green 
and then tired, so tired, he could only lift his finger 
upward, and smile. 


486 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


Tears started to the eyes of Great Heart. Isaac was 
dear to him, and just upon the verge of success they 
must separate. Softly his left arm crept around the 
Little Man’s neck ; a little the head was raised, and with 
his right hand he gave him, drop at a time, some gentle 
stimulant prescribed for him when he should awaken. 
The exertion, slight as it was, exhausted him, and he 
rested ; but his eyes were open, and he looked gratefully 
upon the man who had not left him since he had been 
stricken, and well he knew he would be with him — even 
to the brink. 

After a time he said, “ The clouds are not so heavy ; 
no, the old life comes back to me, and with it, the clear- 
ness up here,” and he laid his hand upon his forehead, 
touched the sacks of ice, and asked, with a bewildered 
look, “ What are they V' 

Great Heart told him in as few words as he could. 

“Yes, yes,” murmured he, “ I see how it was. ‘ Ex- 
citement of any kind.’ I knew it would bring a drawing 
up. I knew it must come,* but oh ! to come that way, to 
dream I saw her face at the window, and never reach it 
when I put out my hand. That face that I have hunted 
so long to find, to just touch as I used to in the old life, 
to make it smile, to make it happy, to say to it, ‘ I forgive 
you.’ I will go to it, I am strong now.” And he drew 
up his shrunken, shrivelled legs with unnatural strength, 
as if he would step out. “ Ha, ha ! these are not mine, 
are they,” he laughed wildly, looking down at them, “ are 
they — tell me, are they T' 

“Yes,” said Mr. Wallace sadly, “they are yours, Isaac.” 

“ They must be gatherings,” returned the Little Man ; 
“ they must be. Where are mine. Great Heart, where 
are mine.^” 

“ This is all that is left of them, stout and muscular 
as they once were,” Great Heart made answer. 

“ But how came it, tell me, I am aweary and cannot 
walk on them now, so I will listen to how they got this 
way. I thought I was clearing, but it may be not, or 
if I do it won’t stay clear ; ” and Isaac lay back, put 
his hands upon the ice sacks and pressed them closely, 
as if they relieved his throbbing brain. 


TIME'S UP!' 


487 


“You were very, very sick, good Isaac, long, long 
ago — a fever followed congestion,” came from Mr. Wal- 
lace with some reluctance lest the subjects he must 
necessarily touch upon would excite the Little Man too 
much. “ The disease left you with these,” and he drew 
the covers over the limbs which were much wasted from 
hip to ankle. 

“ Where was I, Great Heart V* 

“In London.” 

“With you, I know, for I could always remember 
that, but how did I get to London, how did I ever find 
my way into the Great Chimney with its dreadful foul- 
ness } I don’t remember leaving the pretty green fields. 
Do I.? No, I do not. Let me see. Yes, I do; there 
comes another clearing up here and I can remember ; 
but it won’t last long. I came to find her. They sold 
my home. Great Heart, didn’t they.? My lands, my 
shops, they slipped from the old life, the happy life — 
and — and — I can’t remember — what then ? Tell me.” 

“ You came to London, to look for her and seek 
justice for /«;;/, if — ” 

“If she was gone,” interrupted Isaac. “Ha, ha ! yes 
— I think it clears again. I said if she was — ” his voice 
sunk to a soft whisper — “ dead. But I couldn’t find that 
out, could I 

“No,” returned Mr. Wallace sadly, “you could not. 
But you are getting tired, good Isaac; rest now and 
hear about it some other time.” 

“ No, I cannot, I must hear it now, and then I can 
sleep, maybe. Tell me. Great Heart, tell me. I can 
listen,” and the Little Man closed his eyes. 

“You came here,” said Mr. Wallace, taking his hand 
tenderly, “ and saw him upon the street. The shock 
was so great that you fell senseless; a crowd gathered. 
I was passing in a carriage, I stopped, recognized Isaac 
Harold, Wenham, had you lifted into it and taken to 
my home, which I had here in London. When you 
were able I heard your story and resolved to help you. 
Your ambition to be on the scent of your enemy was 
too great for your strength, and you fell in a relapse, 
which kept you bedridden for months.” 


488 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


“I remember that,” said Harold; “and you nursed 
me day and night. What a world of trouble I might 
have hurried out of then ! What did I stay for r It 
isn’t so clear as it was a bit ago — I can’t tell what I 
staid for.” 

“To gather for me,” replied Great Heart. “ If it 
had not been for you I should never be on the track 
that I am, never.” 

“ Yes, I did gather, I remember that. The state 
paper, the cloak — but where did I find them V' 

“You had been to Harding House, Isaac, to see 
some old friends, and came home along the river, and 
I never knew Mary Ray’s trouble till then — till you 
found them — the cloak, the paper. From that time you 
began the busy life of a gatherer, to find if you could 
trace of her^ and I from that time helped you. We 
followed him from town to village, from country to 
country — Rover and I — and you watched for Jmn in 
the Great Chimney.” 

“ And when it snorted and puffed and could not hold 
its foulness, then I knew he was in it and more wrongs 
would come to light,” broke in Isaac with some of the 
old sparkle in his eyes while his hand caught nervously 
at that of Great Heart. 

The latter went on : “ Before the time drew near 

for claiming I lost track of him^ for you know I followed 
her to London and found she became a lady’s maid.” 

“Yes, ha! yes; it get’s all clear again. That is 
why I dealt with the maids for their mistresses’ cast- 
offs. Yes, yes, I see it so plain — if I could only hold 
it and think, but it goes so quick, It is like her face — 
I put my hand out and I cannot touch it. Tell me 
the rest.” 

“ I knew he would be here soon, and we waited and 
watched. I went to a village some miles from here and 
secured Joe, ‘ honest Joe’ — I had heard of him in my 
searches about the country. Almost every inn for miles 
about knows me, good Isaac, for I followed every child 
that I could learn of who had been adopted or found 
iipon the streets. I scoured the country upon foot when 
it served my purpose best, with liveried groom if that 


TIMES UP!" 


489 


gained my ends. This I did before he began to travel; 
and when satisfied I could not find the child of 'Mary 
Ray I took up his trail.” Mr. Wallace spoke with emo- 
tion that he tried in vain to master. “ I said that I lost 
trace of him — yes, for some time ; but, Isaac, who found 
it.? You, you. You gave me the gathering that said 
upon it ‘ Ralph Speeder,’ who was a companion of his. I 
knew it, but I did not tell you so. I handled it and a 
thread sprang from it, a subtle thread that always un- 
winds when I need it. It took me to him soon, one dark 
night when Rover and I were going from here to Jeri- 
cho. — it took me to Ralph Speeder, and I followed him to 
Poorly’s Resort, where he lives. Now, see how much you 
have done for me, and I so little for you.” 

“ But, Great Heart,” whispered Isaac, “ you can do 
for me. Lean close to me. Let me tell you softly. 
Take me to Wenhani, where I can smell the mould, the 
fresh mould, the clean earth. Take me there, and when 
you find her let her sleep next to me. Promise me. Great 
Heart ; let that be your gathering for me.” 

“It shall be done, and anything else you ask for,” re- 
turned Mr. Wallace with trembling lip. 

“ It is clearing fast now. Thank you, thank you. 
Tell me all. I am aweary, but I must hear. They say, 
‘ Listen, we will give you strength.’ The child — did we 
ever find her.? That is not so clear now.” 

“Yes, we have found her. His last victim, you know, 
was Maria Ray, a child of Major Ray’s brother, born 
about the time of the marriage of Richard and Mary. 
The blind man and Miss Thump — ” 

“ Yes, yes, I see it now. The handkerchief she took 
to put over her face was one that Mary Ray owned — the 
blind man saw — some blind men can see.” As the Little 
Man said this he smiled faintly, rested, and then added, 
“Yes, you whispered it to me one night, and I said I 
would watch her, keep harm away when she was abroad. 
I did. Yes, I did.” 

“ Yes, good Isaac, you have always been faithful. I 
have little more to tell. The way is plain now. Mr. 
Hamper found a paper about her that, put with ours, 
makes her identity beyond a doubt.” 


490 


THUMP'S CLIENT, 


“ See, see, Great Heart,” cried Isaac almost sitting 
upon his cot, “ how pleasant it is. Do you see it ?” and 
he stretched out his finger — “ the road before me, the 
sack that is ready, the gatherings that are so beautiful and 
so easy to bear.” 

“ I’m in a hurry,” came softly from dearie before Mr. 
Wallace could respond. , 

“ So am I, dearie, so am I, to be over there.” 

Just then came a tap upon the outer door, low though 
it was, the quick ear of Isaac heard, and he said, “Joe ?” 

Mr. Wallace stepped out, opened to the sun — for he 
was shining again — and the green-grocer with some wine 
jelly, the outlay for which had cost him the profits of a 
week, but he minded it not for his heart dictated the giv- 
ing. While asking in whispered tones for the patient, a 
basket was set upon the step and the bearer of it stood 
aside till the grocer took leave with a sorrowful counte- 
nance ; then Mr. Hamper stepped forward, saluted Mr. 
Wallace, and was quickly followed in this by Meg. 

They had brought a few dainties for the sick man if 
he could take them, while in the bottom of the basket 
lay some clean linen for the bed, and some napkins, 
towels, and such little things that are needed by the score 
in a sick-room, and which Mother Martha said, “ Men 
never had plenty of.” 

Learning that he had returned to consciousness, Pe- 
leg said he would “shove off,” lest the excitement might 
be too great, but Meg asked if she might not sit by him, 
and she entered the room. 

Isaac knew her and smiled. She laid upon his pillow 
a bunch of geranium and heliotrope and one rose-bud 
that she cut from the bush blooming in the living room 
at Wreckers, and took the vacant chair by his side. 
The presence of the girl, the perfume of the flowers, 
or the little wine jelly Great Heart gave him brought 
strength and some of the old vivacity. For a time she 
kept watch by him. The oiled-skin sacks she re-filled with 
ice, the pillow she smoothed, the covers she straightened,, 
the lips she moistened, the face and hands she bathed. 
She felt it a pleasure to do all this, and yet she had seen 
him but once before — on the morning when she found 


TIME'S UPr ^ 491 

the wind had much the advantage of him. And how 
did she and Mr. Hamper know that he was sick } 

Let us look in upon the little drama enacted the day 
before upon the third flight, “ last house at the end,” and 
from the close of that drama, follow Mr. Thump. 

. The mother of Margaret Ray, as said, asked for the 
husband of that young lady. She summoned him from 
the fly near by. He came in all blandness and suavity 
till he saw Mr. Thump ; then the smile was more mean- 
ingless, and the hands rubbed themselves together ner- 
vously. 

“ Glad to meet you, madam,” said he, advancing to 
the bedside, “ glad indeed.” He extended his soft white 
hand, but none met his — perhaps she did not see it. 

“ I have no strength nor time to waste,” she began at 
once ; and they propped her into an easier sitting posi- 
tion with pillows at the back and sides. “ I am feeble, 
but I will speak the truth, and it will be done with al- 
most my dying breath. I have promised them ; they 
would not leave me till I did. Oh, what I have suffered 
since I said I was the wife of Richard Ray. You called 
it the delirium of fever ; it was not, it was a struggle 
between good and bad, angels and devils. I shall never 
suffer more beyond ; I have passed through all the hell 
that can ever be found, the sifting and weighing of life’s 
acts, and the crushing, oh, the terrible crushing burden 
of them if they are bad. To see them ; O God ! have 
mercy and I will speak,” and she clasped her hands in 
despair as she looked up beseechingly to whatever she 
saw. ^^They linger about, they distrust me, and well they 
may. If they will not plunge in, clutch at the water, 
and sink and rise, sink and rise, I can bear it ; but that, 
oh ! that is terrible. Save me from that again. ! save 
me!” and she listened breathlessly. “They will,” she 
continued with her head inclined, as if she had heard an 
answer to her prayer. “ Let me hurry on, and they will 
come back only to bless me, it may be, for telling the 
truth. Now,” she turned to the magistrate, “ I believe I 
cannot live long, and I swear to what I shall say.” The 
right hand was lifted and the Book was kissed. 

“ In VVenham, there lived twenty years ago, a girl 


492 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


light of heart, fair of face and happy in home ; father 
and mother were dead ; but one cared for her, who 
thought no sacrifice for her happiness aught. The house 
was just without the town, and was always open in hospi- 
tality. Oh ! that it had once closed its doors and barred 
its windows — for there entered one not attractive in fea- 
ture nor good in heart, yet over the girl he held a strange 
fascination. She was beautiful, and he thought she might 
take him where he could not, by himself, find place. 
The charm grew stronger, the brother strove to break 
it, and turned the bolt upon him, but the sister defied 
him in this, and in revenge he was one night robbed, 
while the pair fled. The brother, next to William See- 
bold, was the most prosperous proprietor of Wenham’s 
many industries, but the blow struck to his heart, and, she 
heard long after, to his mind, for his sister had been his 
idol. The money taken was not so great in amount, but 
notes were forged upon him ; he might have contested 
them, but he found those who had wives and children 
would suffer, and he was alone in the world, so he met 
them ; and his house, lands, and factories were struck by 
the sheriff’s hammer. The sister heard of it and laughed. 
Awhile after this, Mary Seebold and Richard Ray were 
married. You know who they were ?” she said turning 
to Mr. Thump, “for you are seeking their daughter.” 

He bowed assent. 

She continued, “The man would be heir to Major 
Ray’s estate, if Richard had not stood in the way, and I 
am not unjust when I say that he often in youth planned 
in his own mind how he might make the path clear. 
But Richard married, and then the fear of heirs arose, 
and one was born in time, little Margaret. The mother, 
was happy ; the father cared for naught but home, wife 
and babe. The grandfather was childish in his delight, 
but the same shadow fell across their threshold, the same 
blighting hand had entered. The wife was made to 
believe, by letters, and a false marriage contract, that 
Richard Ray had been married previously, and that a 
child, a girl, then older than little Margaret, was his. 
The mother’s reason gave way ; she escaped with her 
baby to London ; she found the man who had made her 


TIME'S UP r 


493 


his victim ; he took all the money she had, which was not 
inconsiderable, and then turned her, a maniac, on the 
streets. 

‘‘ The once happy girl in Wenham followed her se- 
cretly, and would have saved her, but she was fleeter of 
foot, and disappeared near the water. But the other 
waited, watched, and still hoped, when — oh ! she leaped 
in, sent forth a wild laugh and sunk, arose, and cried 
with outstretched arms for her baby, sunk — and — and,” 
the woman fell forward, and buried her head in the 
clothes, with her fingers tightly closed over her ears, as 
if to shut out the sound, and shuddered with horror. 

When the paroxysm had passed, she resumed, “ And 
I — for it was I — never looked for the child, but turned 
back, and to drown the plunge, the cry, became more 
wicked — lent ear, hand, and brain to covering all traces 
of the marriage of Mary Seebold, and with the man, set 
fire to Wenham’s pretty church. But ha ! I saved the 
records — there they are — but I did not do it for good ; 
no, no ; I had a hope, a devilish hope, that my own 
child might heir the riches. I took her to America; I 
sent money for her care, when I could get it. He — the 

man — and I travelled, hunted up heirs for estates, 
cheated them if we could, and charged heavy interest if 
we could not. We traced Ivandale’s heirs — all were 
gone. I came back to London, where I left him. He 
had grown timid in purpose, disgusting in person, miserly 
in disposition. I took a menial’s position in a noble fam- 
ily — that of lady’s maid — and for a while, I could rest 
in the dark, and not see the awful pictures that would 
rise from its depths. But when he came back from long 
travels, I did not know where, he persuaded me to go to 
America and get our child. She had been summoned 
by his attorney, but I watched her safely to London. 
Then — oh ! how can I tell it ? But I must, or they will 
plunge into the water again, and I cannot bear it. Then 
I found he had enticed the last victim — Maria Ray — 
and her I would have saved, but I could not. I got to 
the brink as she jumped, too. He gave her something • 
that fired her brain, and she followed Mary Seebold. 

“ Again I fled from him. But something brought me 


494 


THUMFS CLIENT. 


back to London, sick, penniless, haunted night and day, 
stiffened with fear at sight of my own shadow. I sent 
for my child, Margaret, resolved to tell her all, but she 
was so beautiful, so heartless, that it brought back the 
demon again, and I said 1 was the wife of Richard Ray. 
But I was not — and above all, I found she had married 
the counsellor of the man I hate and yet must call hus- 
band. So I showed the records and said I had the con- 
tract — and so I have, but it is not a true one. I looked 
at her and thought her husband could, with his cunning 
ways, make her mistress of Ivandale, and for her ease 
and comfort I said what was false. But that night they 
filled the room, the water flowed thick and slimy, it 
caught me, but I could not sink ; I was drowning, but 
could not die, and they — all those I had helped to wrong 
— but one — stood on the bank and looked pitilessly at 
me. Night after night they came ; still I said, Margaret 
— for I called my child by that name — should have my 
aid to the fortune, and I held out against them. But 
last night I climbed to the shore, and when the good 
woman who nursed me was sleeping, worn out with 
watching, I ran out of the house, down the court, and 
thought in despair to find the real river ; but I saw a 
light, stole softly to the window, and looked — looked 
upon — my brother — a wreck of himself. His face had 
long haunted me, but it was not the face I saw, and I 
would not have known it, had I not seen one beside it I 
did know — that of Sir James Lambert, who has worked 
for years to find out'the heiress that Mary Ray left on 
the shore — and my brother has helped him and sought 
me. I did think my child might be touched by my story 
and care for him, but I saw she would not. Since I saw 
my brother last night, the resolve has been firm to tell 
all. I am the wife of Daniel Marplot, and you,” she 
pointed to Margaret, “ are our child. Isaac Harold is 
my brother— whose happy, prosperous life I wrecked. 
They are going, the water is receding, and I shall step 
over— but the shore is barren, desolate. Yet they tell 
me I can make it blooming somewhere in eternity Let 
me sign. I am weak.” 

She seized the pen and wrote, “ Helen Harold”.— 


TIMES UPE 


495 


then stopped, shuddered, and looking up at the magistrate 
asked, “ Must I write his name ?” He bowed ; and 
she added, “ Marplot.” 

Ralph Speeder had heard it all ; and this was why 
he said, “ She’s peached,” and why he also said, that 
Mr. and Mrs. Trout had gone, for they did go. Settle- 
ment with Mrs. Mutter was speedy, that worthy de- 
claring to the lodgers that she always knew there was 
something wrong somewhere. Trunks were filled and the 
first outgoing train that they could board, did not take 
them to Wenham, but to some town where they rested 
and devised for the future. Not many weeks after they 
were found in America, where Mrs. Trout was quite at 
home, and where, for years, she aided her husband with 
her skill and art in making sufficient for a genteel ap- 
pearance, at least. 

Mr. Thump called at Isaac’s door. Mr. Wallace an- 
swered the summons hurriedly, told him of the attack 
and the danger. Mr. Thump intimated that the woman 
had made disclosures which would arrest Marplot, and 
that he would like to communicate with Mr. Hansom. 
“ Which gentleman,” said the lawyer, looking him full 
in the eyes, “ I believe I address in the person of Mr. 
Wallace.” 

The latter replied with a faint smile, “ You have 
discovered me. I am John Hansom. Do your best and 
at once with Marplot. I will call and hear the story 
as soon as I can. The doctors are in consultation. Can 
good Miss Thump call upon us ?” 

Mr. Thump assured him that she could, and that 
lady did call as soon as she could leave the woman who 
was sinking rapidly, and as she told Miss Hamper of 
Isaac’s illness, we see now why Peleg and Meg called 
next morning. 

After Great Heart had finished the savory breakfast 
of Mother Martha, he came to the bedside of Isaac, noted 
the change in all things about him and the happy con- 
tented look upon his face. Dearie was more cheerful, 
and had perched near enough to take some crumbs 
from Meg’s fingers. “Good Isaac,” said he, “ I must 
leave you for a short time, if you are willing, in the hands 


496 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


of Miss Meg, whose dainty work I already see has 
brought light to your eyes. Miss Thump will soon be 
here again ; the doctor will be here by eleven, and I 
shall return before then.” 

“ Go, Great Heart, go,” replied Harold audibly ; 
“ I am glad you can get relief. You must be aweary ; 
but I think the gatherings must be good or you would 
have the old worn look.” 

“ They are promising, and I want you to live and 
enjoy them, good Isaac,” returned Mr. Wallace. 

“Great Heart,” said he in clear tones, “that cannot 
be, they tell me so.” 

Mr. Wallace pressed the Little Man’s hand, and 
turned away with some direction to Meg concerning 
the medicine. He drew on a coat of peculiar texture 
and pattern, took the ebony cane in one hand and at his 
side held a black hat which he did not put on till he 
was without — it was soft and held at one side by a 
jewelled star. His air was one natural to him, slightly 
haughty, his bearing proud and his look stern. 

As he hurried down Mayfair something hurried the 
same way and gained upon him rapidly, it barked and 
leaped, it wagged and lapped, it almost threw him off his 
feet when it first struck him. “ Good Rover, good fellow,” 
he cried with delight, and held the dog in his arms. 

Joe came quickly up with staff and sack, and was 
greeted with joy. He told in a few words of his success, 
and heard with sorrow of Isaac’s illness ; and assuring 
Rover’s master that they had both breakfasted heartily, 
they made all haste to the office of Mr. Thump, in Lunley 
Lane, where that gentleman gave Joe and Rover a most 
hearty welcome, and then turning to him who was last 
to enter the door said, “I addressed Mr. Hansom in the 
person 'of Mr. Wallace but yesterday ; I now find them 
both in Sir James Lambert.” 

“Quite right, Mr. Thump,” returned the latter with 
somewhat of the peculiar manner of Mr. Hansom. “ It 
served a necessity to seem what I was not, and I ac- 
cepted the issue ; but there is some haste to be made, 
for I must return to Blue Bottle Court before eleven. 
Let me hear her story, let Joe hear it too.” 


TIMES UP!'^ 


497 


They listened, Sir James oft with head bowed and 
frame convulsed with emotion. Then followed the re- 
cital of the attempted arrest of Marplot and his tragic 
end. At this his face became rigid, and the stern, relent- 
less look made deep shadows on his brow. 

The papers Joe had brought were next examined. 
They consisted of the will of Major Ray, giving all to 
the child of Mary Seebold, if living, to be held in trust by 
Sir James Lambert ; the history of Lord Radnor’s chil- 
dren, penned by himself, with the death of each and the 
posterity thereof appended as it occurred, or as he had 
ascertained when on his journeys and noted upon his 
returns ; then came the one most desired — the one relat- 
ing to his acquaintance with Major Ray. This was a 
sort of memoranda, interlarded with curses expressed 
and blanked when referring to the visit of that military 
gentleman to the castle, but, after intercourse came, the 
language grew milder, till at the last it was even, at times, 
affectionate ; it spoke of the good-will with which he had 
been received at Rayless House, and the light the old 
major had thrown into his life — late as it was — so the 
juttings may have lost some sharp angles, and the deeply 
sunken been raised slightly. Let us hope so. 

The child of Mary, and the grandchild of William 
Seebold, was minutely described as she last looked to the 
major ; the dimple upon her left cheek was especially 
noted as a mark peculiar to the Ray family, and one by 
which she might some day be known. A will bequeathed 
all to her if ever found. In his wanderings he had 
searched far and wide, but no trace was discoverable. 
Papers of importance, it might be some day, belonging 
to the family, were deposited in the care of the city of 
London. As we have seen these were they which Mr. 
Trout had examined. 

' The writer begged forgiveness of all hearts he had 
pained and all the lives he had blighted. Mr. Thump 
listened while Sir James read, and in turn perused him- 
self. When the last was folded he passed his hand over 
his brow, thoughtfully, sorrowfully. 

“ Joe,” said he, who had engaged him long before to 
serve him,, “the fame of the finding be yours, and the 


498 


THUMP'S CLIENT 


fortune also.” With that he put in his hand a check 
whose amount honest Joe read and re-read before he 
could believe it was his. “ When I engaged you I could 
not tell what I should ask you to do ; you waited long to 
be called to action, but have responded well.” 

Sir James consulted his watch, he would barely have 
time to reach Isaac before eleven. As he buttoned his 
SLirtout Mr. Thump saw the same crest that had been 
wrought upon the velvet collar of Mr. Hansom’s cloak — 
the lion’s claw and the eagle’s beak. 

Joe prepared to leave also, and Rover — it was de- 
cided that he should go with him too, until there was a 
change in the little home at Blue Bottle Court. 

“ Sir James,” said the lawyer, “ when you are at lib- 
erty I will take you to one who, I think, is the true Mar- 
garet Ray.” 

“In the meantime,” suggested Sir James, without be- 
traying the least emotion or surprise, “you might call 
upon her and prepare the way for her good fortune. 
Good morning, sir, I must hasten,” and his gray eyes 
had a soft happy look for the moment as he left Mr. 
Thump, who was not at all puzzled what course to 
take. 

Mother Martha dropped in to see Isaac w'hile Sir 
James was away. Meg remained till the latter returned. 
Not caring to meet the doctor, and knowing that uncle 
must have something good for dinner, she took leave, 
promising to call again before night. 

The air was cool enough to bring out the roses upon 
her cheeks and make her step brisk and healthful. Some 
of her charity charges detained her on the way and she 
was somewhat belated. Hastening on, her hand was 
soon upon the latch of the Hamper dwelling, but it lin- 
gered for a moment — -a. voice within she knew, her heart 
beat quickly and the roses were not confined to her 
cheeks — a little calmer, and she entered. 

“ Meg, child, ye be welcome,” said Mr. Hamper, “an’ 
I be wantin’ to look arter Snatcher’s moorin’s. They 
might shift with the tide. Samooel ’ll sail with ye a 
bit and he hurried out of the house, out of the court 
to some hiding on the quay where the loose fitting 


•‘TIMES UP! 


499 


sleeve of the great coat was drawn many times across 
the bronzed cheeks. 

“ Samue]/’ said Meg, after charging uncle to be back 
directly to dinner, “ I’m glad to see you.” She gave him 
her hand ; he took it and led her to a seat near the one 
from which he had just arisen. 

“Meg, you have refused me the assurance so long as 
your name and birth were unknown. I come this morn- 
ing to bring you knowledge of both. You are heiress of 
Ivandale, a descendant of the Radnor family, a grand- 
child of Major Ray, and inherit his estates in Wenham. 
I had but Mr. Hamper’s story to settle the point, and 
that he has just given me.” 

She did not seem surprised. After thinking a mo- 
ment she laughed merrily and said, “ Why, Samuel, I was 
your client all the time, and you never knew it,” 

“ Never till this morning.” 

“ You must be rewarded. Let me see — I shall be 
eighteen next month. Then we will go to Wenham and 
look after our estates.” 

“ But,” said Mr. Thump, “ do you — ” 

“ Now, now; I know just what you are going -to say. 
I told you once who had my heart, and all the gold and 
silver in the world cannot take it from him so long as 
he — ” the rest was lost in the depths of Samuel’s coat. 

When Peleg came back he looked sad, the time was 
so near for the giving up of Meg, “ She war a leddy 
born,” he kept repeating to himself, “ an’ she will be a 
leddy bred.” 

“ Uncle,” she cried, as he came into the room, “ I am 
so glad, for I can do so much for you now. No more 
pulling up and down stream when you are tired. Rest, 
now, uncle, so long as you live, and Meg can make it for 
you ; just think of that.” 

“ An’ ye be the same old Meg } I war a bit oneasy, 
an’ I be ashamed of it.” And Peleg gathered her into 
his arms just as he had done so many times when she 
wore the slat bonnet and met him after a long puli. 

* * * * * * 

The doctor came, but found further consultation, 
which Sir James urged, useless. “ He cannot recover,” 


500 


THUMP’S CLIENT, 


said that professional, shaking his head ; “ it is needless 
to annoy him. I will leave quieting medicine ; but he 
will pass away slowly.” 

He slept, but the breathing was puffy. Dearie had 
become dejected again — she could not perch but sat upon 
her feet just off the pillow. 

After an hour or more he awakened and motioned 
Sir James to him. “Great Heart,” said he, “ took 
me over, but they said I must come back and bid you 
good-bye, and that you had something, the last, for the 
sack. Let me speak first lest I grow too feeble. Put 
away the cushion, the brass pin and the tea, I do not 
wish to make the cup I once thought I should like to 
pass over the bar to him^ for I saw him over there^ and 
his gatherings are so heavy that they hold him down in 
the depths — the darkest, darkest depths ; he crawls under 
the load, and it will be long before it lightens the weight 
of a feather, they tell me ; and she — I did not see her, 
but I shall soon and help her bear her gatherings. Now, 
tell me.” 

“ He was pursued by the officers of the law,” said 
Great .Heart, in soft tones, “ and fled to the river — and 
jumped in. And she — good Isaac, do not be troubled 
about her — we have found her, and are caring for her in 
her last hours. She is deeply penitent and remembers 
you with the old love of your childhood. I fear you can- 
not be here long ; will you bear a message from me to 
Mary and Richard ?” 

Isaac nodded and pressed the hand that held his. 
“ Tell them that I have found their child, and all is 
well with her,” and the voice trembled and the lips 
quiv,ered. 

“ And tell them of you, of you, Great Heart ? Yes, I 
shall tell them of you, too. I am glad she is going,” he 
whispered as if his mind wandered quickly to what was 
dearest to him. “ And dearie, where is dearie.?” 

“ Time’s up,” came from a muffled voice, and the bird 
rolled upon the pillow — dead. 

“Yes, it is, dearie, it is. The earthly gatherings, 
Great Heart, are all in, the sack is full. When it. is 
opened in the Great Beyond — ” 


• '^TIME'S UP!" ^ 501 

‘‘ Will be found, with the cup in the mouth, good 
Isaac,” whispered Great Heart. 

“ I hope so !” an-d he smiled, gazed at something and 
stretched out his hands joyfully as he said, “ The road is 
through beautiful meadows ; and oh ! I see so much, so 
much to do ; but there is no hurry, for eternity is before 
me. Come, Great Heart, come with me — it is so beauti- 
ful, the grass, the flowers, the birds ! Ah ! yes, I see 
dearie; there she is, just ahead 0/ me. Good-bye.” He 
held tightly the hand that had given him strength when 
earthly trouble had wellnigh crushed him, he closed his 
eyes, a long-drawn breath — it was his last. 

Sir James was alone with the dead. Miss Hamper 
had just been called to Helen Harold, and she too — was 
gone. 

Blue Bottle Court was awed next day, when two 
hearses stood at the corner, one for the brother with 
dearie by his side, one for the sister. A simple prayer 
for each by Sir James himself, listened to by Susan and 
Samuel, Meg, Martha, Peleg, Joe, and Rover. Into Isaac’s 
hand Meg put a rose, white, with the faintest tint of blush, 
but with the petals unfolded. She had heard the story 
of his life, and knew he was ready for its seed. Into Hel- 
en’s hand she slipped a bud, crushed and faded, smoothed 
the wavy hair from the beautiful brow and whispered 
to the dead, I forgive you.” 

The same stately carriage which had drawn up at 
Blue Bottle’s corner once before when Isaac awaited 
its owner. Sir James, to alight from it and strike his 
doorstep in passing, now stood behind the hearses; into 
it entered Great Heart, followed by Joe and Rover. 
The little cortege passed slowly through busy, bustling 
London. Railway coaches soon bore living and dead to 
Wenham. The latter were laid side by side in Hopeful 
Hollow, the pretty green home of the villagers who were 
taking their last sleep. The former stepped back to the 
cares and pleasures, sorrows and joys of life, better fitted 

for their own rest when it should come upon them. 

******* 

Meg would be eighteen on the morrow. Miss 
Thump’s little parlor was bright, the flowers were bloom- 


'502 


THUMP’S CLIENT. 


ing, for she had guests. Miss Hamper, Mr. Hamper, and 
Meg, first; soon Joe and Rover, then .Sir James. The 
mantua-maker had just gone, after completing, to the 
satisfaction of the little lady, a black satin frock, which 
was laid away with a new muslin kerchief beside it, edged 
with a rare lace, and to be fastened on the morrow by 
Samuel in the brooch. Mother Martha had chosen silk 
as less showy, but the trimmings were none the less 
costly, and Peleg had fpund that the reason he was so ill 
at ease when “ dressed up,” was because he had never 
worn clothes made expressly for him, and now that such 
had been made under the direction of Meg’s guardian, 
he found himself looking forward happily to the wearing 
of them. Gaff had been similarly treated, but was not 
present. 

“ We are all here,” said Joe, as they drew around the 
table for cake and coffee — Susan still adhered to mild 
beverages — “but the blind man.” 

“And he is here, too,” said Miss Thump, looking at 
Sir James. 

“Yes,” said that gentleman ; “ fortunately Rover and 
I selected the corner of Lunley and the Wilton, and are 
indebted to Miss Thump for what we ascertained, for by 
the handkerchief which I well knew, I saw the one who 
owned it must be the one I sought. As the blind man, I 
learned also of the intentions of the wily Trout, and 
feared him not ; as Wallace, I also drew from him 
needed knowledge, and found him harmless ; and as 
John Hansom, I found out the honesty and worthiness 
of Mother Susan’s good son, who, I, as the blind beggar, 
saw upon the day when we gathered in this same little 
room for prayer over the unknown dead, loved Meg, the 
child of one whom I loved in life, although she never 
thought me more than a friend, and whose wrongs I 
have spent years in making right. But 1 have not done 
this alone, a something I cannot define has aided me. 
Chance it was not, and perhaps I shall never know its 
name, its source — never realize its power till I have fol- 
lowed those whom I loved on earth.” 

“ Meg,” and he turned to the girl who had drawn to 
his feet at the allusion to her^mother, the same low stool 


TIME'S UP!" 


‘503 


.which she sat upon when the straggling vine filled with 
sap budded, and burst into leaf and flower — “ Isaac Har- 
old, who was once like the rest of us, but whom trouble, 
as you have heard, made whimsical, and sickness de- 
formed, found this in the cloak which Mr. Hamper has 
told you was what he sought on the day after you were 
found ; it is water-marked, as you see, but how it came 
so I cannot tell if the garment was about you. I lend it 
to you, for it may be of use legally, but you must return 
it. Read it, her dying request — and to me. Tell me, 
who will, that chance put it into my hands.” 

The girl took the paper, with awe unfolded it and 
read : 

“ James Lambert : 

“ Find my child, my Meg. I shall leave her. All 
is dark about me. Wrong has been done my Richard, 
but I can’t find the way to him. It is black as midnight. 
Care for my Meg, my girl. Dan — ha ! he is coming. My 
baby and I are going. 

“ Mary.” 

Fastened to this was the showing of lawful marriage 
between Richard Ray and Mary Seebold Radnor, for, as 
said, the old major claimed for her at the altar the name 
of her family. 

‘‘ My poor mother ! No wonder the washing, wash- 
ing would never leave the shore. How could the waters 
be quiet when such dreadful things were done V' and 
sobbing, she laid her head on the knee of Sir James, just 
as her mother had done years before, in mourning over 
childish grievances. 

When she grew calmer, he raised her, drew her close 
to his heart, kissed her tenderly, reverently, as we once 
saw him put his lips to the paper in the little room of 
Isaac Harold. 

“Now,” said he, turning to Samuel, “you must not 
forget tht paper found upon her — her name, her date of 
birth, and the asking whoever found her to care for her, 
with the money tied about her, which somehow escaped 
the wretch who would have seized it to the last farthing. 


504 


THUMP'S CLIENT. 


But let us talk no more of him. Justice and con- 
science are doing for him what are 'beyond the law’s 
power.” 

“ Here,” said Mr. Thump after accepting the trust, 
“ is the ring I slipped from the finger of Maria lest it 
might be needed for identification,” and he drew it from 
his pocket. * 

“ Let it be laid away with the handkerchief,” said 
Meg, her eyes again filling as she took it in her hand. 

Good-nights were early said. Samuel and Meg 
walked slowly and somewhat behind the rest as they 
went to Wreckers for the last time ; and Miss Thump, 
as she closed the door upon the porch, said to herself, 
“ Humph ! I always knew he wasn’t blind.” 

So, all were happy but Tom Barley, who, after the 
officers had smothered the fire upon the bed, fell upon 
that article, and lay there till Polly traced him next day, 
and grasped, shook and swung him upon his feet. 

The beadle was a pompous little man, but he was 
punctual, and had the church open in season, but could 
admit no one, for the marriage was to be private. 

The Rev. Peerie, in no way loth to sanction the 
contract, for the fee would not be stinted, was robed 
early. The bride, in a pretty gray silk travelling dress, 
leaned a little nervously on the arm of Sir James : the 
groom, proud and manly, stepped quickly up the aisle 
supporting a sprightly little lady in black satin. Mr. 
and Miss Hamper, Gaff, Joe and Rover, little Charley, 
his father and mother, followed. 

The little parlor held the waiting breakfast. The 
Rev. Peerie again asked a blessing upon those assem- 
bled ; the family Bible bore the first inscription upon 
its marriage record ; a notice was prepared for the Daily 
Bee. The Lunley’s were again brought to door and 
window, curb and gate, but’ this time not with sorrow. 
The equipage was crested — lion’s claw and eagle’s beak ; 
the footman was stolid — all footman are ; the driver 
was pompous, the horses proud stepping. The Lane 
was honored ; it knew it, they knew it. The happy pair 
appeared, were driven away, while from the porch of the 
cottage were hurled old slippers, handkerchiefs waved, 


TIMES UPT* 505 

kisses thrown, and from every Lunley went up a God 
bless them — the children of Susan Thump.” . 

In due time the village of Wenham welcomed Mr. 
and Mrs. Thump, for Sir James had prepared it for their 
coming, and the court held that the pretty bride was 
heiress of Rayless House and all that its master left. It 
was reopened and made the home of Mother Martha 
and Uncle the year round. He always longed for green 
grass and clean, sweet smelling water. And Snatcher 
found rest, anchored upon a lake within sight. She 
never again had a tired look. 

Ivandale was sold. 

Sir James rebuilt the home of William Seebold, and 
of it Joe took charge, for its owner travelled some and 
spent much time in London; but summer brought him 
there when Meg, Mother Susan, and the little ones 
came too. 

Gaff, after awhile, parted with Cruiser, and in time 
became captain and chief owner of a “ three mast.” 

Rover was content in city or village. His kennel 
was warm, and his food plenty. 

When the little cottage was deemed too small — 
Samuel became both a barrister and a father — they 
moved to a stately home, where he could entertain as 
became one of his standing ; and he never regretted 
throwing scruples to the wind, to enlist in the cause 
of an unknown Client. 


THE END. 






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THE authors’ PUBLISHINO COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 35 

Author’s Manuscript Paper. 

Our own manufacture, of white paper, made from superior 
stock, and sold only in ream packages — each package war- 
ranted to contain full count of 480 sheets. 

Author’s Manuscript Paper, No. 2, 5| -{- 11, per ream. . .$1.00 
Author’s Manuscript Paper, No. 1, 5J ream. . . 1.25 

Note.— When paper is sent by mail 50 cents per ream, in addition to price, must 
accompany order to prepay postage. 

How IT IS Sold so Cheap. 

It is only by making a specialty of this paper, manufacturing directly at the mills in 
large quantities and selling exclusively for cash, that the demand can be supplied at this 
low price. It is really nearly one hundred per cent cheaper than any other paper in 
the market. 

How Every Buyer Gets His Money’s Worth. 

It is made with strong fibre and smooth surface, in two grades only, (Nos. 1 and 2). 
These grades are similar in quality, and differ merely in weight. 

The shape and style (ruled on one side, the other side plain), is approved by writers 
and preferred by printers ; and it has now become the popular standard paper for 
authors, contributors, editors, and writers generally. 

How THIS Department is Managed. 

Six years ago the Authors’ Pub. Co. introduced this paper to authors and writers. 
Its sale grew so rapidly that the iUanusci ipt Paper Department became an 
exclusive and permanent feature. 

The Company sells no other stationery. The present large sales of this paper to 
Booksellers and Stationers, to Newspaper Publishers (for editorial use)— including many 
leading Dailies and Weeklies in New York City— and to writers everywhere, justify the 
theory that the greater care and attention bestowed upon this Special Line, results in 
greater satisfaction ^ike to dealers and consumers. 

How Everybody Speaks of It. 

We find it just what teachers and pupils need.—iVcw England Journal of Education. 
Celebrated for the use of authors and contributors. It is of excellent quality, and 
convenient to both writer and 'gxmX.^x.— Providence Tenon and Country. 

The distinguishing feature of the Manuscript Paper is its convenient shape. The 
texture is neither too thick nor too thin, making it in every way a desirable paper for 
writers and contributors. — Acta Columbiana^ New York. 

Manuscript Manual. 

How to Prepare Manuscripts for the Press. A practical, 
concise and reliable guide for authors, contributors and 
writers generally. Paper covers Price 10 cents. 

“ Sound and Useful.” 

Worth tenfold its grice.— Philadelphia Day. 

The instructions are sound and are much needed. — Boston Beacon. 

Gives excellent hints to intending writers.— Cleveland Evangelical Messenger. 

A most useful little companion to the young writer and editor.— South, N. Y. 

“Punctuation — a Volume in a Nut Shell.” 

Will really give you a great deal of useful information —Louisville Home and School. 
Is practically written. The chapter on punctuation is a volume in a nutshell..- 

London Paper and Printing Trade Journal. 

Letter Writing. 

W^hile the suggestions it contains on writing for the press are most valuable, it would 
not be amiss for all young people to read and practice the rules given in its pages. The 
art of letter writing could be more easily learned from it than from a score of letter 
writers.” We most heartily commend \i.— Champaign {lU.) Gazette. 


14 ■ THE AUTHORS* PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 


Deacon Cranky, the Old Sinner. 

By Rev. George Guirey. Cloth, extra, tinted paper, 
12mo, 333 pp $1.60 

Extract from the Author's "Preface of Beacon Cranky. 

Deacon Cranky is not dead. Though he is known in every neighbor- 
hood, he is not the “Wandering Jew.” He is a “thorn in the flesh;” 
and possibly he survives for the same reason that nettles grow. 

Many think he is a social necessity. He is an old sinner, and every- 
where he makes things lively. His words are as smooth as oil, and his 
smile is as charming as a vision of beauty ; but he is the very incarnation 
of deception. 

Perhaps his mission on earth is to develop the patience of the saints. 

A very handsome volume— and amusing. — Buffalo Express. 

The purpose of this story is admirable. — Examiner and Chronicle. 

A charming story. One entire edition was taken up by advance orders. — Troy Whig. 

Is a handsome volume, and a book that ought to have a large circulation.— 

Herald, Phila. 

Cannot fail to meet with success. The story is written in a very spirited style. 
— Albany County Democrat. 

Compact, forcible, strong. The argument is lucid, and the conclusions logical. 
It is exceedingly readable. — JSewark, N. J., Daily Advertiser. 

It will render good service. We commend the book to all church goers. Its 
author is himself an nonored pattern of what a minister of the Word should "be.— Albany 
Journal. 

This is a racy, interesting book — one of the richest we have perused in a long 
time. Its wholesome truths should be treasured up and acted upon. — Gospel Banner, 
Augusta, Me, 

It cannot help having a strong moral influence upon the community, and is of 
such an interesting character, that it cannot fail of readers. — Chelsea, Mass., Telegraph 
and Pioneer. 

A vigorous and charming story. If the author were not a minister and a close 
observer of human nature as seen from the standpoint of the clergy, he could never have 
written so admirable a book as “Deacon Cranky. — Troy Times. 

We cordially welcome this book, and thousands of Christian hearts will respond 
to its faithful delineation of Christian character and church life. We hope every Pastor 
and every Sunday-school Library will procure copies for circulation. — National Baptist, 
Phila. 

This book should he in every Sunday-school library in the country. Some bene- 
factor should purchase a million copies, and give them a gratuitous distribution, for the 
lessons therein inculcated are of incalculable value to every church member. — Tioga, Pa., 
Express. 

The story is told with considerable “go,” and seasoned with a good deal of spice. 
A biting protest against the evils which it impales. It deserves a good circulation. The 
book is flavored by an earnest evangelicism, which it respects and exalts. — Philadelphia 
Epitome of Literature. 

A plain speaking, out-and-out plea for spirituality in the church. Deacon Cranky 
is an “ old sinner,” sure enough. The story, as an exhibition of what goes forward in 
some fashionable churches, is more true to the life than we wish it were. We hope the 
book will be read. — Chicago Standard. 

He was an old sinner. Mr. Guirey shows him up in vigorous style We are glad to 
learn that he is making a wide tour through the land, and by his hypocrisy, teaching 
churches true spirituality. Two extracts are selected — the first showing how he kills 
prayer meetings, and the second showing up the frauds perpetrated in church fairs 
under the sacred name of charity : . . .— Church Union. 

A bright and lively story, in which Deacon Cranky shows his familiar characteris- 
tics in church fairs, choir troubles, neck-tie parties, etc. There is an earnestness and 
reality in the story which is prominent throughout the whole work. Deacon Cranky it 
a “ human looking-glass in which many of us may see our own faces.” We are glad that 
such a book has been written, and hope it may have, as it justly deserves, an extensive sale. 
It is gotten up in good style, with clear type, and nicely hoxmd.— Life- Boat, Dayton, o. 

The ubiquitous “troubler of Zion ” is well described in the character of Deacon 
Cranky, as presented by this very readable book. Mr. Guirey has succeeded well in his 
portraiture of a number of the characters in Plymouth Avenue Church, some as noble 
and sympathizing, as zealous and prudent helpers as any pastor finds in any church. 
The touches of sarcasm to be found in the book are no detriment to it, only serving to 
bring out the faults and virtues of the members of Plymouth Avenue Church in stronger 
colors, and tending to deepen the efl^ect on its readers. It is a book which will doubtlea* 
have a large circulation, — New York Baptist Weekly, 


THE author’s publishing COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 


39 


Spiritual Communications. 

Presenting a Revelation of the Future Life, and 

ILLUSTRATING AND CONFIRMING THE FUNDAMENTAL DOC- 
TRINES OF THE Christian Faith. Edited by Hen^iy 
Kiddle, A. M. Cloth extra, l‘2mo, 350pp $1 50 

This is no ordinary book; indeed, it contains the most startling revelation of 
modern times. What the eminent educationist and author commenced as an in- 
vestigation into certain remarkable psychological phenomena, brought to his 
notice in a very singular manner, has culminated in the wonderful record pre- 
sented to the public in this volume. 

Startling Revelations ! Facts Attested ! 

While it is a most important addition to the literature of Spiritualism, the 
growth of which is, perhaps, the most amazing fact of our times, it is far more 
than this. It comes as a tocsin of the New Jerusalem, an evangel of “Peace 
and good will toward men,’ a her.ald of the “ Resurrection of the world,” and 
the “ Second Coming of Christ.” The internal senses are opened ! The de- 
parted return ! Dead and living clasp hands! Men and angels speak together I 
The celestial curtain is rolled back ! The natural and spiritual worlds stand face 
to face ! 


This is no exaggeration. The book attests it all as a reality ; for it is no mere 
speculation, but the record of living facta; the logical evidence to support 
which may be briefly stated as follows: 

1. That it comes through the wonderful gifts of one of the purest, simplest, and 
most truthful of minds 

2 That It has received the careful investigation of a man of ripe intellectual 
culture, distinguished foi scholarly attainments, sound practical common sense, 
and purity of personal character, whose whole life has been a rigid mental train- 
ing, and whose successful career in the field of education has reflected the highest 
credit upon himself, and has brought honor to the City of New York both at 
home and abroad 

3. That the teachings and tendency of the book are spiritually or religiously 
of the purest and sublimest character. No man, whatever may be the char- 
acteristics of his mind or religious faith, can ever rise from the candid perusal 
of this book without becoming a purer and better man. 

4, That the internal evidence comprised in the communications themselves,— 
so v.ast in their scope, so various in their style, so startling in their statements — 
is so indubitably plain that he who runs may read and understand. To no book 
ever written, except the Sacred Scriptures themselves, are the well known lines 

of Soott so applicable ; 

“ Within that awful volume lies 
The mystery of mysteries ; 

And better had they ne’er been born 
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn ” 

Illustrious Messengers from Other Worlds. 

Here, with the voice of inspiration, speak the spirits of the departed— the 
illustAons of earth, -Shakespeare, Byron, Shelly, Bryant, Poe, Washington, 
Lincoln, Bacon, Newton, etc., etc ; \\\q pet sonagea oj sacred Moses, the 



ber^, etc. . and the Sccr Swedenborg Here speak to us the spirits of blissful 
spheres; and here also tlie siiirits of the sinful and erring come, and tell their sad 
ex!>erience, as a lesson to mankind ^ 

The brght splieres anJ the dark world are here, in part unveiled to mankind, 
so that timy nnv choose between them. But in every page of this wonderful 
volume, the infinite goodness and mercy of God and the love of our Saviour 
Christ are shown with fl.ashes of heavenly light. , , . , , . , . 

No notice can give any adequate idea of the character of this book, which, it 
is not saying too much to declare, contains an evangel that is destined to travel 
the world over. 


THE AUTHOES’ PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 


Shadowed Perils, 

A Novel. By Miss M. A. Avery, author of the “Loyal 
Bride,” etc. English cloth, i2mo, 260 pp. Price, $1.00. 

Tlie story is bold and dramatic in action, strong in characteriza- 
tion, graceful in narrative, continuous in interest, honest and 
sweet in spirit. 

Miss Avery is the author of several works. Good style and fine thoughts. — Boston 

Beacon. ^ • -i. i. 

The story is not lacking in interest, and there are two or three characters in it which 

are very attractive. — N. Y. Mail. 

WeU written, full of interest and illustrative of many phases of life. It is pure m 
tone, full of sympathy for the lowly, and calculated to teach useful lessons. Gotten up 
in the best style. — Harrisburg Temperance Vindicator. 

The story of a bound girl. The narrative flows smoothly, strong probability and 
naturalness marking every incident, and thereby holding the attention of the reader. 
There is a passionate force in the author’s style, while the moral form of the book is 
admirable. — Baltimore Methodist Protestant. 

It has many characters — all handled with grand generalship. The publishers are on 
the second edition. —.V. Y. Hebrew Leader. , . n a a 

A very readable and not a little exciting novel — that will be generally read and ap- 
preciated . — Democratic Review. 

Her Waiting Heart, 

A Novel. By Louise Capsadell, author of “ Hallow 
' E’en,” “ Women’s Secrets,” etc. Cloth extra, 192 pp. 
i2mo. Tenth edition. Price, $1.00 

A story of New York, drawn from the familiar phases of life 
which, under the calmest surfaces, cover the greatest depths. 
Charming skill is shown in the naturalness of characterization, de- 
velopment of plot and narrative, strength of action and delicacy 
of thought. 

Of rare excellence. — N. T. Touchstone. 

, An interesting story. — Little Rock Daily Star. 

Highly interesting, and the plot is well laid. — Ftnc<!nn«s {Ind.) Sun. 

The author’s name is familiar to the readers of many leading magazines. — Pomeroy’s 
Democrat. 

Without aiming at sensation, the very opening chapter fixes the attention, and it is 
well held to the end. — Baltimore Methodist Protestant. 

The old trade idea that a novel could not be a success if published in complete book 
form and as a serial at the same time, received a refutation in “ Her Waiting Heart.” 
The book is still having a good sale. — American Bookseller. 

Will insure a favorable reception, and be agreeably remembered at thousands of fire- 
sides. Cora is a lovely and strong character, and Eugene a first-class villain. The 
characters are excellently drawn . There is dramatic skill, and a sparkle and richness 
in style. — Cincinnati Times. 

The characters are delineated with a delicacy, lightness of touch, clearness and indi“ 
viduality which make them living, breathing beings. The feminine heart and the 
motives that sway it are laid bare in “ Her Waiting Heart” in so exquisite a manner as 
only a woman — and that so gifted a one as this author — can do it. — N. Y. Family Story 
Paper. 

Ranks among the foremost of modem American writers. . . In subtle analysis o^ 
character, and a magic-like unveiling of those hidden springs of action which underlie 
the superficial calm of deep, strong natures, the author’s delicate skill and power of 
faithful delineation are especially displayed. These, combined with a warmth of col- 
oring, a nervous, graceful style, and the artistic development of an ingenious plot, 
render inis last production of Miss Capsadell’s genius a work of intrinsic merit, as ad- 
mirable in execution as it is fresh and vigorous in conception. — N. Y. Weekly Story 
Teller. 


24 THE authors’ publishing company’s descriptive list. 

Our Wedding Gifts. 

By Amanda M. Douglas, author of “Nelly Kinnard’s 
Kingdom^’? “From Hand to Mouth,” “In Trust,” “ Stephen 
Dane,” etc. Cloth extra, ink and gold; large square, 
12mo, 214 pp $1.00 

Of all the many works from this popular author’s pen — and by which her 
name has become a “household word ” all over the country, for the sale of 
her books has already run into hundreds of thousands— probably no previous 
volume will compare with “ Our Wedding Gifts ” in real sparkle and brilliant 
hits. 

A well-known writer.— C%ica (70 Tribune. 

Is a very clever novel — Baltimore Gazette. 

An anausing narrative. — Cincinnali Gazette. 

Will have a wide and delighted circle of readers.— C'iracinwafi Times. 

One of the best domestic novels we have read for several months. — Phila. Press. 

An amusing story, picturing the abuses of wedding giUs.— Columbus (0) State 
Journal. 

The amusing and annoying phases of the practice of wedding presents are cleverly 
hit off. — Boston Journal. ^ 

There is a great amount of practical good sense and needful, economic teachinP’ in 
“ Our Wedding Gifts.”— Boston Traveller. ^ 

Is very characteristic of this favorite author, whose works are welcomed by so many 
readers. It will doubtless be a favorite.— .Boston! Daily Globe. ^ 

This is the latest and best production of Miss Douglas, whose previous stories have 
won her much favor. The book is admirably made. — N. Y. Mail. 

Many marriages that are “ happy ” might be made more so if the persons principally 
interested would take warning from the experiences here set iorih.— Church Union^ N. Y. 

The young couple of the tale have some extraordinary experiences, and the sim- 
plicity, ignorance and misfortunes of the groom are told in a very amusing way. — Buff^o 
Courier. 

Miss Douglas has apparently employed unusual care in the construction of the story 
while it is not lacking in the qualities that usually give popularity to her productions.—^ 
A merican Baookseller. 

It is full of incidents, and is written with all the charm of the former hooks of the 
author, which have taken rank with the most useful as well as the most entertaining of 
American tales. — Newark Journal. 

The thousands of admirers of the gifted author can well imagine the sparkling, racy 
manner in which she would write a story of this kind, and the humor as well as exquis- 
ite satire that pervades every page. — Boston Home Journal. 

An excellent story to illustrate an important theme. Weddings have tended to be- 
come a nuisance from the growing up of a custom of qqinquennial celebrations of them 
each time, w'ith an array of presents. Some sound sense on the snbject has become 
desirable, and the reader will find it in this hook.— The Methodist, N. 1'. 

Who has not trembled at the thought that there was a prospect of his being invited 
to a wedding, and tne collapsed condition of his pocket-book forbade the purchase of 
such a gift as was possibly expected of him ? This volume aptly and wittily hits this 
custom. Adolphus Stryker, the victim, is only an illustration of a large cla.ss, and his 
misfortunes are to be laughed at and enjoyed in the pleasant manner told in this story, 
— Inter-Ocean, Chicago. 

Miss Douglas has a neat power of satire in her. It displays itself beautifully in her 
treatment of the fashion of wedding gifts— wooden, tin, crystal, silver, and so forth— a 
system of taxation more unjust and oppressive than taxation without representation. 
Here is one of Miss Douglass’ little hits at hysterical women : 

“ The wise purpose of woman’s nerves may be hereafter revealed, but in this era of 
the world they are shrouded by a dim and inscrutable Providence. Are they for pur- 
poses of self-defense, like a cat’s claws, sheathed w'hen all goes fair, but, at the moment 
of danger, bristling all over ? Would a woman, when a note ivas going to protest, rush 
to the bank, upbraid the official, and have a hysteric, I wonder ? This point ought to 
be settled on a firm and uncompromising basis before the equality of the sexes is deter- 
mined.”— C'tnciwnaii Commercial, 


THE authors’ PUBLISEHNG COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 


4U%S 


In Dead Earnest. 

A Novel. By Julia Breckin'RIDGE. Cloth extra, large 
square 12mo, 239pp $1.25 

“ Skilful Plot— Pure, Excellent.” 

A novel of plot and incident. — JV*. V. Post. 

A pure and pleasant story. — Richmond, Va., State. 

Concisely expressed, and told in a direct sort of way that is entertaining. — 
Phila. Times. 

It is a creditable story, far better than many which come to us. It is con- 
structed with skill and told well. — Louisville Courier- Journal. 

We are glad to call attention to this pure and excellent story. The character 
of the heroine is that of one who is in “ dead earnest. ’ — Southern Churchman. 

“Virginians and Quakers— True to Life.” 

Characters and manners are vividly and faithfully sketched, and the plot,' 
down to its conclusion, is well constructed and developed.— Dat/y Press, Phila- 
delphia. 

The character of Jasper, the heroine, is well conceived and portrayed. The 
calm demeanor and iron will of Aunt Hester are true to life. Tlie story is a good 
one. — Indianapolis Journal. 

Is a romance of much quiet beauty. It is written in a graphic and thoughtful 
style. Tlie characters are well drawn, and the interest of the story is well kept 
up. — Baltimore Daily Gazette. 

“The Work of a Master Hand.” 


It is a grand story, portraying life in Virginia and among the Quakers of 
Pennsylvania. The plot of the story is good, and shows the work of a master 
hand. The tale is told so charmingly that it will become very popular. — Free- 
burg. Pa., Courier. 

This is a story of life in the Old Dominion since the war. The author has laid 
the scenes principally on an old plantation named Sherwood. The story is made 
interesting, and the introduction of some Southern negroes and scenes during 
the yellow fever at New Orleans make the narrative more effective. It is pub- 
lished in excellent style, the binding being specially attractive.— JV*. Y. J^ail. 

“ The Thread of the Story.” 

Those who look for sensationalism in this novel, because of its title, will be 
disappointed. The plot is simple, the incidents of a quiet kind, and the char- 
acters altogether disposed to be friendly with each other, and loveable. The 
scene is laid partly in Pennsylvania, partly at the South, -the feeling and senti- 
ment pervading the story being Southern. It is a pleasant novel.— 

Sun. 

Jasper St. John, the heroine, is a Southern waif — an orphan child who is taken 
by her Quaker uncle to Philadelphia to raise and educate. At last, after many 
interesting^. episodes, she returns to Virginia as a governess, and the story of 
Southern life on a plantation is well told. Of course there is love and courtship 
and the thread of the story unwinds very charmingly. -A/e/Aorfisf Protestant, 
Baltimore. ’ 

“ Full op Interest from Beoinninq to End.” 


The plot is well laid, and the story is full of interest from beginning to end. 
The difference between the free and easy manner, we might say the rollicking 
ways, of the descendants of the cavaliers in the State that rejected the sway of 
Ihe Lord Protector' and clung to the unfortunate house of Stuart, and the 
staid and sober community that revere the memory of William Penn is well de- 
scribed in an easy, flowing style, that is never stilted or pretentious.’ We rarely 
read novels now-a dap but are happy to say, now that we have gone through 
this modest volume, that we greatly enjoyed it, and commend it to all lovers of 
liQiion.— Lynchburg Vtrgtrnan. 


32 • THB authors’ publishing company’s descriptive list 

Women’s Secrets; or, Mow to he ^eautifuL 

Translated and Edited from the Persian and French, with 
additions from the best English authorities. By Louise 
Capsadell, author of Her Waiting Heart/’ “Hallow 
E’en,” etc. 12 mo. 

Boudoir Edition^ elegantly bound in bright Silk cloths, 
ink and gold, and with an original design, containing 
Distinguished Beauties in Photograph. Price 75 cents. 
Saratoga Edition, in Scotch Granite, with new and unique 
Lace border on cover. Price 25 cents. 

Three thousand years before Sydney Smith wrote 
“ Whatever you have, have beauty,” 

the higher education of the princesses and ladies of Persia was to he 
beautiful ! This education and experience evolved many very valuable and 
permanent customs of physical treatment and personal embellishment. 
They secured and perpetuated for the women of the Orient the amazing 
beauty for which they have become universally renowned. Por many 
centuries, however, these customs and arts were religiously withheld 
from the public as “ Secrets of Beauly.” Finally they took shape in a little 
volume. 

Such parts of the “ Persian Hand-Book of Beauty” as are appropriate 
to this age and country, are for the first time printed in English in this 
treatise, supplemented by such matters as the artistic sense and piquant 
beauty of France have made standard and available. 

CONTENTS. 

Chapter I. The Value of Personal Beauty. 

“ n. The History of Beauty. 

“ HI. Various Standards of Beauty. 

“ IV. The Best Standard of Beauty. 

“ V. How to Raise Beautiful Children. 

VI. How to be Beautiful. 

“ VII. Beauty Sleep. 

“ Vni. Beauty Food. 

“ IX. How to be Fat. 

“ X. How to be Lean. 

“ XI. Beauty Bathing and Exercise. 

** XII. Effects of Mental Emotions on Beauty, 

“XIII. How Beauty is Destroyed. 

“ XTV. How to Remain Beautiful. 

“ XV. How to Acquire Grace and Style. 

“ XVI. The Language of Beauty. 

Very sensible. — New York Evening Mail. 

Things that are good. — New York Home Journal. 

A thousand and one needful hints. — Chicago Herald. 

Sound— may be safely followed.— PArenotej/icaZ Journal. 

Will teach them how to be beautiful. — A'os. City Times. 

Will make them irresistible. — Little Rock (Ark.) Daily Star. 

The book is worth thrice its price. — Williamsport (Fa.) Sun. 

The best work of the kind we have ever seen. — Richmond (Va.) State. 

Is creating quite a. furore in modistic circles. — N. Y. Cor. Georgia Journal. 

Secures and preserves the highest beauty. — Harrisburg Temperance Vindicator. 

Very valuable for preserving the form and features. — Baltimore Methodist Protesiani. 
Full directions as to the symmetrical development of the human form and the beai^ 
tiflcation of the human f^^’^RaUinwe Episcopal Methodist, 


THE AUTHOES’ PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCKIPTIVE LIST. 


27 


The Mystic Key. A Poetic Fortune Teller. 

With 300 quotations from over 80 standard authors. Ar- 
ranged by Emma E. Riggs. Tinted paper, gold back and 
side, beveled boards, red edges, cloth extra, sqr. 32mo, 
82 pp 75c. 

HOW TO USE THE MYSTIC KEY* 

The arrangement comprises the following questions : 

1. What is your Character ? 6. What is your favorite Flower 'i 

2. What is your Chief Attraction 1 7. Who is your Intended! 

3. What do you Like Best ? 8. What is the character of youiTntended 1 

4. What do you Dislike Most ! 9. What is your Destiny ! 

6. What is your highest ambition 7 10. Where will your Home he 7 

There are thirty answers to each question. One person will take the 
hook and announce the question, as for instance, “ What is your Character 7 ” 
The ladies select any of the even numbers, from two to thirty; the gen- 
tlemen select odd numbers, from one to twenty-nine. The person holding 
the book reads each selection in turn. 

After all have selected under the first heading they proceed to the next, 
and so on through the book. — Extracts from Preface and Contents. 

A clever guide to one's future fortunes. — N. Y. Mail. 

, It is just the book for a present. — Sentinel, Rome, JV. Y. 

' It is adapted for a room full of company.— CVn. Times. 

The amusement is quite a pretty one. — Buffalo Courier. 

Will shorten many a long winter’s evening.— Cm. Gazette. 

Is prepared with a good deal of tact and judgment. — Boston Transcript. 

The idea is unique, and is carried out in a delightful manner.— Phila. 

The game might be improved by having each querist tell from what poem each re- 
sponse is taken! — Dnihj Press, Phila. 

A great many valuable texts can be fixed in the mind well worthy of remembrance, 
while mirth and good fellowship flow naturally from the aptness of the quotations. — 
Inter-Ocean, Chicago. 

This is a beautiful little gem of a volume. The selections are choice and pertinent, 
evincing not only good sense, taste and nice discrimination. — Daily Saratogian, JV. Y. 

The arrangement is very novel and ingenious, and it will be a seen at once what a 
wide range of reading the author had to undertake in order to carry out the idea which 
she has so beautifully elaborated. For instance, the first inquiry in the book is ; 

WHAT IS VOUR CHARACTER ? 

To which these, among many others, are answers : 

A rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun, 

To relish a joke and rejoice in a pun.— Goldsmith. 

WHAT IS YOUR CHIEF ATTRACTION ? 

A form so fair, that like the air 

’Tis less of earth than heaven —E. E. Pinkney, 

WHAT DO YOU LIKE BEST ? 

A sly flirtation by the light of a chandelier. 

With music to play in the pauses. 

And nobody very near.— Willis. 

WHAT DO YOU DISLIKE MOST f 

“ To make the fire, fry the cakes, 

And get the table spread 1" 

WHAT IS YOUR HIGHEST AMBITION ? 

To go to church to-day 

To look devout and seem to pray. 

And ere to-morrow’s sun goes down 

Be dealing slander through the town.— 3frs. Sigourney, 

WHO IS YOUR INTENDED f 

A hungry, lean-faced villain, 

A mere anatomy, a mountebank, , 

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller, 

A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch. — Shakspeare, 

WHAT IS YOUR DESTINY ? 

Never wedding, never wooing. 

Still a lovelorn heart pursuing.— Uampbe/f. 

The work constitutes an excellent book of familiar poetical reference. — Troy Times. 


46 


THE authors’ publishing COMPANy’s DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 


Few novel series have attained stich unbounded popularity as the Satchel Series. They are found 
at every news-stand, in every bookstore, and in every railway train ; they were read by many 
tourists the past summer, and were universally commended. — Mirror and American, Man- 
chester, N. H. 


THE SATCHEL SERIES. 

The attention of the Trade is asked particularly to the ‘‘ Satchel 
Series” as popular and fast-seUing books. 'See preceding pages. 

Newsdealers and Eailroad agents find them the most active and 
the most profitable stock the^^ handle. 

Everybody likes them. Every reader finds some volume in the 
Series to suit him. 

Doing a large business with this Series, and printing in very 
large editions, we make extra-special discounts on these books 
when ordered in quantities. 


ORDER LIST OF THE SATCHEL SERIES. 


No. 24. Mrs. Singleton 40c. 

“ 23. Old Nick’s Campmeetin’.50e. 

“ 22. One Little Indian 25c. 

“ 21. Vic 30c. 

“ 20. Persis ^ 25c. 

“ 19. Ninety Nine Days 35c. 

“ 18. Spiders & Rice Pudding 25c. 

“ 17. How it Ended 25c. 

“ 16. Bera, or 0. &M. C. R. R 40c. 

“ 15. Glenmere 25c. 

“ 14. Poor Theophilus 25c. 

‘ ‘ 13. Only a Tramp 50c. 


No. 12. Who Did It? 30c. 

“ 11. Our Peggotties 25c. 

“ 10. Our V/inter Eden 30c- 

“ 9. Nobody’s Business ....30c. 

“ 8. Story of the Strike ... . 30c. 

“ 7. Lily’s Lover 35c. 

“ 6. Voice of a Shell 40c. 

“ 5. Rocc-mond Howard. 25c. 

“ 4. Appeal to I loody (satire)lOc. 

“ 3. Bonny Eagle 25c. 


“ 2. Prisons Without Walls 25c. 

“ 1. Traveller’s Grab Bag. . .25c. 


LATE CURRENT OPINION. 

Decidedly bright and entertaining tales. — Chicago Herald. 

Breezy, bright, little books, always unexceptionably pure in sentiment ; 
a trifle racy in style. — Cincinnati Commercial. 

Neat, clearly printed volumes, especially desirable as companions on a 
journey of any kind. — Sunny South, Atlanta. 

Readable and amusing, and will help to enliven a wearisome journey. 
The type in which they are printed recommends them for railway read- 
ing. — American Bookseller. 

The convenient form of the books in this series, and their brevity, fit 
them especially for reading upon railway trains or in idle half-hours any- 
where. — W. Y. Ev. Post. 

The “Satchel Series”— a significant title, as the handy size, clear print, 
and reasonable length of each book seem to qualify it for being read in 
railway cars and slipped into the convenient satchel, safely out of sight. 
— Phila. News. 

Remarkably clever little books, which doubtless find many interested 
readers. They are in compact and convenient form, just the thing for the 
country, and are light and frothy enough to be read on watering-place 
hotel verandas, or imder the shade qf sighing trees. The entire list is one 
that, as its name implies, is most convenient for the satchel of the tourist. 
'—N. Y, Ev. Express. 


NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS 

‘ JUST ISSUED BY 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

27 Bond. Street, New York. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Akm io Comet or the Future States. E. ADKINS* 

! ....^ 1.60 

Analytical Processes; or, the Primary Principle of 
Philosophy, Rev. Wm. I. GILL, A. M. --.02.00 
Beauty of the King. Life of Christ. Rev. A. IL 

Holloway, A. M. $i.oo; gilt 01.2o 

Camping In Colorado. With Suggestions to Gold- 
Seekers, Tourists, and Invalids. S. A. GORDON. 

4 0 1 

Christian Conception and Experience. Rev. WM. 

I. Gill, A. M - 

Chronic Consumption, Prevention and Cure of. 
David Wark, M. D 80c. 

Complete Scientific Grammar of the English Lan- 
guage. Prof. W. COLEGROVE 01.25 

Ecclesiology : Fundamental Idea and Constitution 
of the New-Testament Church. E. J. FISH. 
D. D 02.00 

Evolution and Progress, An Exposition and De- 
fence. Rev. Wm. I, Gill 01.50 

Fast and Loose In Dixie, Gen’l J. Madison Drake. 
{Shortly 

Flammaiion’s Astronomy. Prof. C. S. L. SXERK. 

{^Shortly* ) 

How to he Beautiful. LOUISB Capsadell ..25c. 

Individual Rights. M.RYERSON 25c. 

Is our Republic aFailurel E. H. WATSON. 01.50 
Life nmang the Clergy. Rev. ROBERT FISHER. 
01.25 

Life for a Look. Rev. A. H, HOLLOWAY 15c. 

nanuscript Paper. Per ream, 01.00 and 01.25. By 
mail, 50c. per ream extra. 

Blanuscript Hanual. How to Prepare Manuscripts 


FICTION AND ESTHETICS. 


After Many Years. ROBERT BoGGS 01.50 

A Windfall. A. T. PERRY 01.00 

Berrlsford. M. M. SANFORD 01.50 


Buccaneers, The. Historical Novel. RANDOLPH 

Jones Paper, 01.00; cloth, 01.50 

Columbia. A National Poem. W. P. CHILTON. 

01.00 

Cothurnus and Lyre. E. J. HARDING 01.00 

Deacon Crankey, the old Sinner. Geo. Guirey. 

01.50 

Hammock Biories 01.25 

Her Waiting Heart. LOUISE CAPSADELL.. 01.00 

In Dead Earnest. J. BRECKINRIDGE 01,25 

Irene. Mrs. B. F. Baer $1.00 

Linda; or, Ueber das Meer. Mrs. H. L. CRAW- 
FORD. For Young Folks $1.25 

Mystic Key. A Home-Amusement Fortune-Teller 75c 
Our Wedding Gifts. AMANDA DOUGLAS. ..01.00 
Rev. Adonijah and His Wife*s Relations. Mrs. 

Judge Steede 01.00 

Summer Boarders. Adele M. Garrigues, 01.00 

Shadowed Perils. M. A. AVERY 01.00 

St. Paul. Poem. Rev. S. M. HaGEMAN. Gilt. 75c. 
Sumners’ Poems. S. B. and C. A. SUMNER. i 2 mo. 
0,!.5O; 8 vo, illustrated 04.00 

Thump’s Client. ChaS. D. Knight 01.50 

’Twixt IVave and Sky. F. E. WADLEIGH...01.25 
Wild Flowers. C. W. HUBNER 01.00 

THE ENCHANTED LIBRARY, 

For Young Folks. 

Little Wooden Captain. SYDNEY Dayre 00c. 

Harry Ascott Abroad M. WHITE, Ju GOc. 

Kin-Folk. Janet Miller 75c. 


for the Press 10 c. 

Hereantlle Prices and Profits. M, R. Pilon. {Shorily) 
Progressive Medicine. C. S. Verdi, M.D, {Shortly) 

Race for Wealth. JAMES CORLEY 50c. 

Resurrection of the Body. Does the Bible Teach 

it? E. Nisbet, D. D 01.00 

Roman Catholicism In the Lnlted Slates 01.25 

Scrap Books — How to Make Them. E. W. Gurley. 

{Shortly.) 

Spiritual Communications from the Eternal World. 

Henry Kiddle, A. M 01.50 

Universe of Language. Late GKO. WATSON 

Edited by E. H. AVatsON 01.50 

What is Demonetization of Gold and Silver ? M. 

R. Pilon 76c. 


Any book on our List sent postpaid on 
receipt of price. Descriptive Catalogue (6o pag^'^ 
and New Flan of Publishing* mailed free. 


El-FayGno-Land. Mrs. M. M. SANFORD 75c. 

THE SATCHEL SERIES. 

No. 23 . Old Nick’s Camp-Meetin* {Shortly.) 

22 . One Little Indian 25c. 

21 . Vic 30c. 

•* 20 . Persis 25c. 

•• 19 . Ninety-Nine Days 36c. 

“ 18 . Spiders and Rice Pudding 25c. 

17 . How it Ended 25c. 

** 16 . Bera, or, C. & M. C. R, R 40c. 

•* 15 . Gleumere 25c. 

** 14 . Poor Theophilus. Cloth, 60e 25c. 

13 , Only a Tramp 60c. 

•• 12 , Who Did It? 30c. 

II. Our Peggotties 26c. 

** 10 . Our Winter Eden 30c. 

9 . J^obody*s Business ...30c. 

** 8 . Story of the Strike 80c.. 

7 . Lily’s Lover 36e,. 

** 6 . Voice of a Shell 40c. 

*' 5 . Rosamond Howard. Cloth, GOc 25c. 

** 4 . Appeal to Moody, (satire) 10c. 

3 . Bonny Eagle 25c, 

Prisonm|tfthout Walls 25c. 

ravellErj Grab Bag, 






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